The seven dials mystery

ee,

i

By AGATHA CHRISTIE

THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES
THE SECRET ADVERSARY

THE MURDER ON THE LINKS

THE MAN IN THE BROWN SUIT
POIROT INVESTIGATES

THE SECRET OF CHIMNEYS

THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
THE BIG FOUR

THE MYSTERY OF THE BLUE TRAIN
THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

THE
SEVEN DIALS
NYSTERY

By AGATHA CHRISTIE

DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
NEW YORK: 1929

CoPpryRIGHT, 1929,
By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc,

PRINTED IN THE U. S, A. BY
Quinn & Boden Company, Ine.

i es
BOOK MANUFACTURERS
RAHWAY NEW JERSEY

XXII

CONTENTS

ON EARLY RISING .

CONCERNING ALARUM CLOCKS

THE JOKE THAT FAILED

A LETTER ° .
THE MAN IN THE ROAD
SEVEN DIALS AGAIN
BUNDLE PAYS A CALL
VISITORS FOR JIMMY
PLANS. . .

BUNDLE VISITS SCOTLAND YARD

DINNER WITH BILL

INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS

.

THE SEVEN DIALS CLUB

THE MEETING OF THE SEVEN DIALS

THE INQUEST °

e

THE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY

AFTER DINNER.
JIMMy’s ADVENTURES
BUNDLE’S ADVENTURES

LORAINE’S ADVENTURES
THE RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA
THE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY .

Vv

°

104
117
129
137
146
156
165

171

178
186
196

CHAPTER

CONTENTS

SUPERINTENDENT BATTLE IN CHARGE

BUNDLE WONDERS ° .
JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS .
MAINLY ABOUT GOLF. .

NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE .
SUSPICIONS . . . .

PAGE
208

218
227
239

245
252

SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE LOMAX 261

AN URGENT SUMMONS .
THE SEVEN DIALS . . .
BUNDLE IS DUMFOUNDED.
BATTLE EXPLAINS . . .
LORD CATERHAM APPROVES

271
282
290
294
308

_-—s THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

CHAPTER I
ON EARLY RISING

THAT amiable youth, Jimmy Thesiger, came racing
down the big staircase at Chimneys two steps at a
time. So precipitate was his descent that he collided
with Tredwell, the stately butler, just as the latter was
crossing the hall bearing a fresh supply of hot coffee.
Owing to the marvellous presence of mind and mas-
terly agility of Tredwell, no casualty occurred.

“Sorry,” apologized Jimmy. “I say, Tredwell, am
I the last down?”

“No, sir, Mr. Wade has not come down yet.”

“Good,” said Jimmy, and entered the breakfast
room,

The room was empty save for his hostess, and her
reproachful gaze gave Jimmy the same feeling of dis-
comfort he always experienced on catching the eye of
a defunct codfish exposed on a fishmonger’s slab. Yet,
hang it all, why should the woman look at him like
that? To come down at a punctual nine-thirty when
staying in a country house simply wasn’t done. To be
sure, it was now a quarter past eleven which was, per-
haps, the outside limit, but even then— _

“Afraid I’m a bit late, Lady Coote. What?”

“Oh! it doesn’t matter,” said Lady Coote in a mel-

ancholy voice.
I

2 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

As a matter of fact, people being late for breakfast
worried her very much. For the first ten years of her
married life, Sir Oswald Coote (then plain Mr.) had,
to put it baldly, raised hell if his morning meal were
even a half minute later than eight o’clock. Lady
Coote had been disciplined to regard unpunctuality as
a deadly sin of the most unpardonable nature. And
habit dies hard. Also, she was an earnest woman, and
she could not help asking herself what possible good
these young people would ever do in the world without
early rising. As Sir Oswald so often said, to reporters
and others: “I attribute my success entirely to my
habits of early rising, frugal living, and methodical
habits.”

Lady Coote was a big, handsome woman in a tragic
sort of fashion. She had large, dark, mournful eyes
and a deep voice. An artist looking for a model for
“Rachel mourning for her children” would have hailed
Lady Coote with delight. She would have done well,
too, in melodrama, staggering through the falling snow
as the deeply wronged wife of the villain.

She looked as though she had some terrible secret
sorrow in her life, and yet if the truth be told, Lady
Coote had had no trouble in her life whatever, except
the meteoric rise to prosperity of Sir Oswald. As a
young girl she had been a jolly flamboyant creature,
very much in love with Oswald Coote, the aspiring
young man in the bicycle shop next to her father’s
hardware store. They had lived very happily, first in
a couple of rooms, and then in a tiny house, and then

ON EARLY RISING 3

in a larger house, and then in successive houses of in-
creasing magnitude, but always within a reasonable
distance of “the Works” until now Sir Oswald had
reached such an eminence that he and “the Works”
were no longer interdependent, and it was his pleasure
to rent the very largest and most magnificent mansions
available all over England. Chimneys was a historic
place, and in renting it from the Marquis of Caterham
for two years, Sir Oswald felt that he had attained the
top notch of his ambition.

Lady Coote was not nearly so happy about it. She
was a lonely woman. The principal relaxation of her
early married life had been talking to “the girl’”—and
even when “the girl” had been multiplied by three,
conversation with her domestic staff had still been the
principal distraction of Lady Coote’s day. Now, with
a pack of housemaids, a butler like an archbishop, sev-
eral footmen of imposing proportions, a bevy of scut-
tling kitchen and scullery maids, a terrifying foreign
chef with a “temperament” and a housekeeper of im-
mense proportions who alternately creaked and rustled
when she moved, Lady Coote was as one marooned on
a desert island.

She sighed now, heavily, and drifted out through
the open window, much to the relief of Jimmy Thesiger
who at once helped himself to more kidneys and bacon
on the strength of it.

Lady Coote stood for a few moments tragically on
the terrace and then nerved herself to speak to Mac-
Donald, the head gardener, who was surveying the

4 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

domain over which he ruled with an autocratic eye.
MacDonald was a very chief and prince among head
gardeners. He knew his place—which was to rule.
And he ruled—despotically.

Lady Coote approached him nervously.

“Good-morning, MacDonald.”

“‘Good-morning, m’lady.”

He spoke as head gardeners should speak—mourn-
fully, but with dignity—like an emperor at a funeral.

“T was wondering—could we have some of those
late grapes for dessert to-night?”

_ “They’re no fit for picking yet,” said MacDonald.

He spoke kindly but firmly.

“Oh,” said Lady Coote.

She plucked up courage.

“Oh! but I was in the end house yesterday, and I
tasted one and they seemed very good.”

MacDonald looked at her, and she blushed. She
was made to feel that she had taken an unpardon-
able liberty. Evidently the late Marchioness of Cater-
ham had never committed such a solecism as to enter
one of her own hothouses and help herself to grapes.

“If you had given orders, m’lady, a bunch should
have been cut and sent in to you,” said MacDonald
severely.

“Oh! thank you,” said Lady Coote. “Yes, I will
do that another time.”

“But they’re no properly fit for picking yet.”

“No,” murmured Lady Coote. “No, I suppose not.
We’d better leave it then.”

ON EARLY RISING 5

MacDonald maintained a masterly silence. Lady
Coote nerved herself once more.

“I was going to speak to you about the piece of
lawn at the back of the rose garden. I wondered if it
could be used as a bowling green. Sir Oswald is very
fond of a game of bowls.”

“And why not?” thought Lady Coote to herself.
She had been instructed in her history of England.
Had not Sir Francis Drake and his knightly compan-
ions been playing a game of bowls when the Armada
was sighted? Surely a gentlemanly pursuit and one
to which MacDonald could not reasonably object. But
she had reckoned without the predominant trait of a
good head gardener, which is to oppose any and every
suggestion made to him.

“Nae doot it could be used for that purpose,” said
MacDonald noncommittally.

He threw a discouraging flavour into the remark,
but its real object was to lure Lady Coote on to her
destruction.

“If it was cleared up and—er—cut—and—er—all
that sort of thing,” she went on hopefully.

“Aye,” said MacDonald slowly. “It could be done.
But it would mean taking William from the lower
border.”

“Oh!” said Lady Coote doubtfully. The words
“lower border” conveyed absolutely nothing to her
mind—except a vague suggestion of a Scottish song—
but it was clear that to MacDonald they constituted an
insuperable objection.

6 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

‘And that would be a pity,” said MacDonald.

“Oh! of course,” said Lady Coote. “It would.”

And wondered why she agreed so fervently.

MacDonald looked at her very hard.

“Of course,” he said, “‘if it’s your orders, m’lady—”

He left it like that. But his menacing tone was too
much for Lady Coote. She capitulated at once.

“Oh! no,” she said. “I see what you mean, Mac-
Donald. N-no—William had better get on with the
lower border.”

“That’s what I thocht meself, m’lady.”

“Yes,” said Lady Coote. “Yes. Certainly.”

“T thocht you’d gree, m’lady,” said MacDonald.

“Oh! certainly,” said Lady Coote again.

MacDonald touched his hat and moved away.

Lady Coote sighed unhappily and looked after him.
Jimmy Thesiger, replete with kidneys and bacon,
stepped out on to the terrace beside her, and sighed
in quite a different manner.

“Topping morning, eh?” he remarked.

“Ts it?” said Lady Coote, absently. “Oh! yes, I
suppose it is. I hadn’t noticed.”

“Where are the others? Punting on the lake?”

“I expect so. I mean, I shouldn’t wonder if they
were.”

Lady Coote turned and plunged abruptly into the
house again. Tredwell was just examining the coffee
pot.

“Oh, dear,” said Lady Coote. “Isn’t Mr.— Mr—”

“Wade, m’lady?”

ON EARLY RISING 7

“Yes, Mr. Wade. Isn’t he down yet?”

“No, m’lady.”

“It’s very late.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

“Oh! dear. I suppose he will come down sometime,
Tredwell?”

“Oh, undoubtedly, m’lady. It was eleven thirty yes-
terday morning when Mr. Wade came down, m’lady.”

Lady Coote glanced at the clock. It was now
twenty minutes to twelve. A wave of human sympathy
rushed over her.

“Tt’s very hard luck on you, Tredwell. Having to
clear and then get lunch on the table by one o’clock.”

“T am accustomed to the ways of young gentlemen,

m’lady.”
- The reproof was dignified, but unmistakable. So
-might a prince of the Church reprove a Turk or an
infidel who had unwittingly committed a solecism in all
good faith.

Lady Coote blushed for the second time that morn-
ing. But a welcome interruption occurred. The door
opened and a serious, spectacled young man put his
head in.

“Oh! there you are, Lady Coote. Sir Oswald was
asking for you.” |

“Oh, I'll go to him at once, Mr. Bateman.”

Lady Coote hurried out.

Rupert Bateman, who was Sir Oswald’s private sec-
retary, went out the other way, through the window
where Jimmy Thesiger was still lounging amiably.

8 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Morning, Pongo,” said Jimmy. “I suppose I shall
have to go and make myself agreeable to those blasted
girls. You coming?”

Bateman shook his head and hurried along the ter-
race and in at the library window. Jimmy grinned
pleasantly at his retreating back. He and Bateman
had been at school together, when Bateman had been
a serious, spectacled boy, and had been nicknamed
Pongo for no earthly reason whatever.

Pongo, Jimmy reflected, was very much the same
sort of ass now that he had been then. The words
“Life is real, life is earnest” might have been written
specially for him.

Jimmy yawned and strolled slowly down to the lake.
The girls were there, three of them—just the usual sort
of girls, two with dark, shingled heads and one with a
fair, shingled head. The one that giggled most was (he
thought) called Helen—and there was another called
Nancy—and the third one was, for some reason, ad-
dressed as Socks. With them were his two friends,
Bill Eversleigh and Ronny Devereux, who were em-
ployed in a purely ornamental capacity at the Foreign
Office.

“Hallo,” said Nancy (or possibly Helen). “It’s
Jimmy. Where’s what’s his name?”

“You don’t mean to say,” said Bill Eversleigh, “that
Gerry Wade’s not up yet? Something ought to be done
about it.”

“If he’s not careful,” said Ronny Devereux, “he'll

ON EARLY RISING 9

miss his breakfast altogether one day—find it’s lunch
or tea instead when he rolls down.”

“It’s a shame,” said the girl called Socks. “Because ~
it worries Lady Coote so. She gets more and more like
a hen that wants to lay an egg and can’t. It’s too
bad.”

“Let’s pull him out of bed,” suggested Bill. ‘Come
on, Jimmy.”

“Oh! let’s be more subtle than that,” said the girl
called Socks. Subtle was a word of which she was
rather fond. She used it a great deal.

“T’m not subtle,” said Jimmy. “I don’t know how.”

“Let’s get together and do something about it to-
morrow morning,” suggested Ronny vaguely. “You
know, get him up at seven. Stagger the household.
Tredwell loses his false whiskers and drops the tea urn.
Lady Coote has hysterics and faints in Bill’s arms—
Bill being the weight carrier. Sir Oswald says ‘Ha!’
and steel goes up a point and five eighths. Pongo regis-
ters emotion by throwing down his spectacles and
stamping on them.”

“You don’t know Gerry,” said Jimmy. “I daresay
enough cold water might wake him—judiciously ap-
plied, that is. But he’d only turn over and go to sleep
again.”

“Oh! we must think of something more subtle than
cold water,” said Socks.

“Well, what?” asked Ronny bluntly. And nobody
had any answer ready.

10 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“We ought to be able to think of something,” said
Bill. ‘“Who’s got any brains?”

“Pongo,” said Jimmy. “And here he is, rushing
along in a harried manner as usual. Pongo was always
the one for-brains. It’s been his misfortune from his
youth upwards. Let’s turn Pongo on to it.”

Mr. Bateman listened patiently to a somewhat in-
coherent statement. His attitude was that of one
poised for flight. He delivered his solution without
loss of time.

“T should suggest an alarum clock,” he said briskly.
“T always use one myself for fear of oversleeping. I
find that early tea brought in in a noiseless manner is
sometimes powerless to awaken one.”

He hurried away.

“An alarum clock.” Ronny shook his head. “One
alarum clock. It would take about a dozen to disturb
Gerry Wade.”

“Well, why not?” Bill was flushed and earnest.
“T’ve got it. Let’s all go into Market Basing and buy
an alarum clock each.”

There was laughter and discussion. Bill and Ronny
went off to get hold of cars. Jimmy was deputed to spy
upon the dining-room. He returned rapidly.

“He’s there right enough. Making up for lost time
and wolfing down toast and marmalade. How are we
going to prevent him coming along with us?”

It was decided that Lady Coote must be approached
and instructed to hold him in play. Jimmy and Nancy

ON EARLY RISING i 3

and Helen fulfilled this duty. Lady Coote was be-
wildered and apprehensive.

“A rag? You will be careful, won’t you, my dears?
I mean, you won’t smash the furniture and wreck things
or use too much water. We’ve got to hand this house
over next week, you know. I shouldn’t like Lord
Caterham to think—”

Bill, who had returned from the garage, broke in
reassuringly.

“That’s all right, Lady Coote. Bundle Brent—Lord
Caterham’s daughter—is a great friend of mine. And
there’s nothing she’d stick at—absolutely nothing!
You can take it from me. And anyway there’s not
going to be any damage done. This is quite a quiet
affair.”

“Subtle,” said the girl called Socks.

Lady Coote went sadly along the terrace just as
Gerald Wade emerged from the breakfast-room.
Jimmy Thesiger was a fair, cherubic, young man, and
all that could be said of Gerald Wade was that he was
fairer and more cherubic, and that his vacuous ex-
pression made Jimmy’s face quite intelligent by con-
trast.

“Morning, Lady Coote,” said Gerald Wade. “Where
are all the others?”

-“They’ve all gone to Market Basing,” said Lady
Coote.

“What for?”

“Some joke,” said Lady Coote in her deep, melan-
choly voice.

12 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Rather early in the morning for jokes,” said Mr.
Wade.

“It’s not so very early in the morning,” said Lady
Coote pointedly.

“I’m afraid I was a bit late coming down,” said Mr.
Wade with engaging frankness. “It’s an extraordinary
thing, but wherever I happen to be staying, I’m always
last to be down.”

“Very extraordinary,” said Lady Coote.

“T don’t know why it is,” said Mr. Wade, meditating.
“T can’t think, I’m sure.”

“Why don’t you just get up?” suggested Lady
Coote.

“Oh!” said Mr. Wade. The simplicity of the solu-
tion rather took him aback.

Lady Coote went on earnestly.

“T’ve heard Sir Oswald say so many times that
there’s nothing for getting a young man on in the world
like punctual habits.”

“Oh! I know,” said Mr. Wade. “And I have to
when I’m in town. I mean, I have to be round at the
jolly old Foreign Office by eleven o’clock. You mustn’t
think I’m always a slacker, Lady Coote. I say, what
awfully jolly flowers you’ve got down in that lower
border. I can’t remember the names of them, but
we’ve got some at home—those mauve thingummy-
bobs. My sister’s tremendously keen on gardening.”

Lady Coote was immediately diverted. Her ek isc
rankled within her,

“What kind of gardeners do you have?”

ON EARLY RISING 13

“Oh! just one. Rather an old fool, I believe.
Doesn’t know much, but he does what he’s told. And
that’s a great thing, isn’t it?”

Lady Coote agreed that it was with a depth of feel-
ing in her voice that would have been invaluable to her
as an emotional actress. They began to discourse on
the iniquities of gardeners.

Meanwhile the expedition was doing well. The prin-
cipal emporium of Market Basing had been invaded
and the sudden demand for alarum clocks was consid-
erably puzzling the proprietor.

“I wish we’d got Bundle here,” murmured Bill.
“You know her, don’t you, Jimmy? Oh, you’d like
her. She’s a splendid girl—a real good sport—and
mark you, she’s got brains too. You know her,
Ronny?”

Ronny shook his head.

“Don’t know Bundle? Where have you been vege-
tating? She’s simply it.”

“Be a bit more subtle, Bill,’ said Socks. “Stop
blethering about your lady friends and get on with the
business.” .

Mr. Murgatroyd, owner of Murgatroyd’s Stores,
burst into eloquence.

“Tf you'll allow me to advise you, Miss, I should
say—not the 7/11 one. It’s a good clock—I’m not
running it down, mark you, but I should strongly ad-
vise this kind at 10/6. Well worth the extra money.
Reliability, you understand. I shouldn’t like you to
say afterwards—” :

14 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

It was evident to everybody that Mr. Murgatroyd
must be turned off like a tap.

“We don’t want a reliable clock,” said Nancy.

“It’s got to go for one day, that’s all,” said Helen.

“We don’t want a subtle one,” said Socks. “We
want one with a good loud ring.”

“We want—” began Bill, but was unable to finish,
because Jimmy, who was of a mechanical turn of mind,
had at last grasped the mechanism. For the next five
minutes the shop was hideous with the loud raucous
ringing of many alarum clocks.

In the end six excellent starters were selected.

“And I'll tell you what,” said Ronny handsomely,
“T’ll get one for Pongo. It was his idea, and it’s a
shame that he should be out of it. He shall be repre-
sented among those present.”

“That’s right,” said Bill. “And I'll take an extra
one for Lady Coote. The more the merrier. And she’s
doing some of the spade work. Probably gassing away
to old Gerry now.”

Indeed at this precise moment Lady Coote was de-
tailing a long story about MacDonald and a prize peach
and enjoying herself very much.

The clocks were wrapped up and paid for. Mr.
Murgatroyd watched the cars drive away with a puz-
zled air. Very spirited the young people of the upper
classes nowadays, very spirited indeed, but not at all
easy to understand. He turned with relief to attend

to the vicar’s wife, who wanted a new kind of dripless
teapot.

CHAPTER II
CONCERNING ALARUM CLOCKS

“Now where shall we put them?”

Dinner was over. Lady Coote had been once more
detailed for duty. Sir Oswald had unexpectedly come
to the rescue by suggesting bridge—not that suggesting
is the right word. Sir Oswald as became one of “Our
Captains of Industry” (No. 7 of Series I), merely ex-
pressed a preference and those around him hastened to
accommodate themselves to the great man’s wishes.

Rupert Bateman and Sir Oswald were partners
against Lady Coote and Gerald Wade, which was a
very happy arrangement. Sir Oswald played bridge,
like he did everything else, extremely well, and liked
a partner to correspond. Bateman was as efficient a
bridge player as he was a secretary. Both of them
confined themselves strictly to the matter in hand,
merely uttering in curt short barks, “Two no trumps,”

“Double,” “Three spades.” Lady Coote and Gerald
Wade were amiable and discursive and the young man
never failed to say at the conclusion of each hand, “I
say, partner, you played that simply splendidly,” in
tones of simple admiration which Lady Coote found
both novel and extremely soothing. They also held
very good cards.

The others were supposed to be dancing to the wire-

15

16 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

less in the big ballroom. In reality they were grouped
around the door of Gerald Wade’s bedroom, and the
air was full of subdued giggles and the loud ticking of
clocks.

“Under the bed in a row,” suggested Jimmy in an-
swer to Bill’s question.

“And what shall we set them at? What time, I
mean? All together so that there’s one glorious what
not, or at intervals?”

The point was hotly disputed. One patty argued
that for a champion sleeper like Gerry Wade the com-
bined ringing of eight alarum clocks was necessary.
The other party argued in favour of steady and sus-
tained effort.

In the end the latter won the day. The clocks were
set to go off one after the other, starting at 6:30 A.M.

“And I hope,” said Bill virtuously, “that this will be
a lesson to him.”

“Hear, hear,” said Socks.

The business of hiding the clocks was just being
begun when there was a sudden alarm.

“Hist,” cried Jimmy. ‘“Somebody’s coming up the
stairs.”

There was a panic.

“Tt’s all right,” said Jimmy. “It’s only Pongo.”

Taking advantage of being dummy, Mr. Bateman
was going to his room for a handkerchief. He paused
on his way and took in the situation at a glance. He
then made a comment, a simple and practical one.

“He will hear them ticking when he goes to bed.”

CONCERNING ALARUM CLOCKS 17

The conspirators looked at each other.

“What did I tell you?” said Jimmy in a reverent
voice. “Pongo always did have brains!”

The brainy one passed on.

“It’s true,” admitted Ronny Devereux, his head on
one side. “Eight clocks all ticking at once do make a
devil of a row. Even old Gerry, ass as he is, couldn’t
miss it. He’ll guess something’s up.”

“T wonder if he is,” said Jimmy Thesiger.

“Ts what?” .

‘Such an ass as we all think.”

Ronny stared at him.

“We all know old Gerald.”

“Do we?” said Jimmy. “I’ve sometimes thought
that—well, that it isn’t possible for anyone to be quite
the ass old Gerry makes himself out to be.”

They all stared at him. There was a serious look on
Ronny’s face.

“Jimmy,” he said, “you’ve got brains.”

““A second Pongo,” said Bill encouragingly.

“Well, it just occurred to me, that’s all,” said Jimmy,
defending himself. |

“Oh! don’t let’s all be subtle,” cried Socks. ‘What
are we to do about these clocks?”

“FHere’s Pongo coming back again. Let’s ask him,”
suggested Jimmy.

Pongo, urged to bring his great brain to bear upon
the matter, gave his decision.

“Wait till he’s gone to bed and got to sleep. Then

18 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

enter the room very quietly and put the clocks down on
the floor.”

“Little Pongo’s right again,” said Jimmy. “On the
word one all park clocks, and then we'll go downstairs
and disarm.suspicion.”

Bridge was still proceeding—with a slight difference.
- Sir Oswald was now playing with his wife and was con-
scientiously pointing out to her the mistakes she had
made during the play of each hand. Lady Coote ac-
cepted reproof good-humouredly, and with a complete
lack of any real interest. She reiterated, not once but
many times:

“TI see, dear. It’s so kind of you to tell me.”

And she continued to make exactly the same errors.

At intervals, Gerald Wade said to Pongo:

“Well played, partner, jolly well played.”

Bill Eversleigh was making calculations with Ronny
Devereux. —

“Say he goes to bed about twelve—what do you think
we ought to give him—about an hour?”

He yawned.

“Curious thing—three in the morning is my usual
time for bye-bye, but to-night, just because I know
we’ve got to sit up a bit, I’d give anything to be a
mother’s boy and turn in right away.”

Every one agreed that he felt the same.

“My dear Maria,” rose the voice of Sir Oswald in
mild irritation, “I have told you over and over again
not to hesitate when you are wondering whether to
finesse or not. You give the whole table information.”

CONCERNING ALARUM CLOCKS 19

Lady Coote had a very good answer to this—namely
that as Sir Oswald was dummy, he had no right to
comment on the play of the hand. But she did not
make it. Instead she smiled kindly, leaned her ample
chest well forward over the table, and gazed firmly into
Gerald Wade’s hand where he sat on her right.

Her anxieties lulled to rest by perceiving the queen,
she played the knave and took the trick and proceeded
to lay down her cards.

“Four tricks and the rubber,” she announced. “I
think I was very lucky to get four tricks there.”

“Lucky,” murmured Gerald Wade, as he pushed
back his chair and came over to the fireplace to join
the others. “Lucky, she calls it. That woman wants
watching.”

Lady Coote was gathering up notes and silver.

“T know I’m not a good player,” she announced in a
mournful tone which nevertheless held an undercurrent
of pleasure in it. “But I’m really very lucky at the
game.”

“You'll never be a bridge player, Maria,” said Sir
Oswald.

“No, dear,” said Lady Coote. “I know I shan’t.
You're always telling me so. And I do try so hard.”

“She does,” said Gerald Wade sotto voce. ‘“There’s
no subterfuge about it. She’d put her head right down
on your shoulder if she couldn’t see into your hand any
other way.”

“T know you try,” said Sir Oswald. “It’s just that
you haven’t any card sense.” ;

20 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“T know, dear,” said Lady Coote. “That’s what
you're always telling me. And you owe me another ten
shillings, Oswald.”

“Do 1?” Sir Oswald looked surprised.

“Ves. Seventeen hundred—eight pounds ten.
You’ve only given me eight pounds.”

“Dear me,” said Sir Oswald. “My mistake.”

Lady Coote smiled at him sadly and took up the
extra ten-shilling note. She was very fond of her hus-
band, but she had no intention of allowing him to cheat
her out of ten shillings.

Sir Oswald moved over to a side table and became
hospitable with whisky and soda. It was half past
twelve when general good-nights were said.

Ronny Devereux, who had the room next door to
Gerald Wade’s, was told off to report progress. Ata
quarter to two he crept round tapping at doors. The
_ party, pyjamaed and dressing-gowned, assembled with
various scuffles and giggles and low whispers.

“His light went out about twenty minutes ago,” re-
ported Ronny in a hoarse whisper. “I thought he’d
never put it out. I opened the door just now and
peeped in, and he seems sound off. What about it?”

Once more the clocks were solemnly assembled.
Then another difficulty arose.

“We can’t all go barging in. Make no end of a row.
One person’s got to do it and the others can hand him
the whatnots from the door.”

Hot discussion then arose as to the proper person to
be selected.

CONCERNING ALARUM CLOCKS oa

The three girls were rejected on the grounds that
they would giggle. Bill Eversleigh was rejected on the
grounds of his height, weight and heavy tread, also for
his general clumsiness, which latter clause he fiercely
denied. Jimmy Thesiger and Ronny Devereux were
considered possibles, but in the end an overwhelming
majority decided in favour of Rupert Bateman.

“Pongo’s the lad,” agreed Jimmy. “Anyway, he
walks like a cat—always did. And then, if Gerry
should waken up, Pongo will be able to think of some
rotten silly thing to say to him. You know, something
plausible that’ll calm him down and not rouse his sus-
picions.”

“Something subtle,” suggested the girl Socks thought-
fully.

“Exactly,” said Jimmy.

Pongo performed his job neatly and efficiently. Cau-
tiously opening the bedroom door, he disappeared into _
the darkness inside bearing the two largest clocks. In
a minute or two he reappeared on the threshold and
two more were handed to him and then again twice
more. Finally he emerged. Every one held his
breath and listened. The rhythmical breathing of
Gerald Wade could still be heard, but drowned, smoth-
ered and buried beneath the triumphant, impassioned
ticking of Mr. Murgatroyd’s eight alarum clocks.

CHAPTER III
THE JOKE THAT FAILED

“TWELVE o'clock,” said Socks despairingly.

The joke—as a joke—had not gone off any too well.
The alarum clocks, on the other hand, had performed
their part. They had gone off—with a vigour and élan
that could hardly have been surpassed and which had
sent Ronny Devereux leaping out of bed with a con-
fused idea that the day of judgment had come. If such
had been the effect in the room next door, what must it
have been at close quarters? Ronny hurried out in
the passage and applied his ear to the crack of the door.

He expected profanity—expected it confidently and
with intelligent anticipation. But he heard nothing at
all. That is to say, he heard nothing of what he ex-
pected. The clocks were ticking all right—ticking in a
loud, arrogant, exasperating manner. And presently
another went off, ringing with a crude, deafening note
that would have aroused acute irritation in a deaf man.

There was no doubt about it; the clocks had per-
formed their part faithfully. They did all and more
than Mr. Murgatroyd had claimed for them. But
apparently they had met their match in Gerald Wade.

The syndicate was inclined to be despondent about it.

“The lad isn’t human,” grumbled Jimmy Thesiger.

“Probably thought he heard the telephone in the

22

THE JOKE THAT FAILED 23

distance and rolled over and went to sleep again,” sug-
gested Helen (or possibly Nancy). ;

“It seems to me very remarkable,” said Rupert Bate-
man seriously. “I think he ought to see a doctor
about it.”

“Some disease of the ear-drums,” suggested Bill
hopefully.

“Well, if you ask me,” said Socks, “I think he’s just
spoofing us. Of course they woke him up. But he’s
just going to do us down by pretending that he didn’t
hear anything.”

Every one looked at Socks with respect and admira-
tion.

“Tt’s an idea,” said Bill.

“He’s subtle, that’s what it is,” said Socks. “You'll
see, he’ll be extra late for breakfast this morning—just
to show us.”

And since the clock now pointed to some minutes
past twelve the general opinion was that Socks’s theory
was a correct one. Only Ronny Devereux demurred.

“You forget, I was outside the door when the first
one went off. Whatever old Gerry decided to do later,
the first one must have surprised him. He’d have let
out something about it. Where did you put it, Pongo?”
“On a little table close by his ear,” said Mr. Bate-
man.

“That was thoughtful of you, Pongo,” said Ronny.
“Now, tell me.” He turned to Bill. “If a whacking
_ great bell started ringing within a few inches of your

24 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

ear at half past six in the morning, what would you
say about it?”

“Oh! Lord,” said Bill. “I should say—’ He came
to a stop.

“Of course you would,” said Ronny. “So should I.
So would anyone. What they call the natural man
would emerge. Well, it didn’t. So I say that Pongo
is right—as usual—and that Gerry has got an obscure
disease of the ear-drums.”

“Tt’s now twenty past twelve,” said one of the other
girls sadly.

“T say,” said Jimmy slowly, “that’s a bit beyond
anything, isn’t it? I mean a joke’sa joke. But this is
carrying it a bit far. It’s a shade hard on the Cootes.”

Bill stared at him.

“What are you getting at?”

“Well,” said Jimmy, “somehow or other—it’s not
like old Gerry.”

He found it hard to put into words just what he
meant to say. He didn’t want to say too much, and
yet— He saw Ronny looking at him. Ronny was
suddenly alert.

_ It was at that moment Tredwell came into the room
and looked round him hesitatingly.

“I thought Mr. Bateman was here,” he explained
apologetically.

“Just gone out this minute through the window,”
said Ronny. “Can I do anything?”

Tredwell’s eyes wandered from him to Jimmy
Thesiger and then back again. As though singled out,

THE JOKE THAT FAILED 25

the two young men left the room with him. Tredwell
closed the dining-room door carefully behind him.

“Well,” said Ronny. “What’s up?”

“Mr. Wade not having yet come down, sir, I took the
liberty of sending Williams up to his room.”

Ves,”

“William has just come running down in a great state
of agitation, sir.” Tredwell paused—a pause of prep-
aration. “I am afraid, sir, the poor young gentleman
must have died in his sleep.”

Jimmy and Ronny stared at him.

“Nonsense,” cried Ronny at last. ‘“It’s—it’s impos-
sible. Gerry—”’ His face worked suddenly. “T’ll—
I'll run up and see. That fool William may have made
a mistake.”

Tredwell stretched out a detaining hand. With a
queer, unnatural feeling of detachment, Jimmy realized
that the butler had the whole situation in hand.

“No, sir, Williams has made no mistake. I have
already sent for Dr. Cartwright, and in the meantime I
have taken the liberty of locking the door, preparatory
to informing Sir Oswald of what has occurred. I must
now find Mr. Bateman.”

Tredwell hurried away. Ronny stood like a man
dazed.

“Gerry,” he muttered to himself.

Jimmy took his friend by the arm and steered him
out through a side door on to a secluded portion of the
terrace. He pushed him down on to a seat.

26 | THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Take it easy, old son,” he said kindly. “You'll get
your wind in a minute.”

But he looked at him rather curiously. He had had
no idea that Ronny was such a friend of Gerry Wade’s.

“Poor old-Gerry,” he said thoughtfully. “If ever a
man looked fit, he did.”

Ronny nodded.

“All that clock business seems so rotten now,” went
on Jimmy. “It’s odd, isn’t it, why farce so often seems
to get mixed up with tragedy?”

He was talking more or less at random, to give
Ronny time to recover himself. The other moved
restlessly.

“T wish that doctor would come. I want to know—”

“Know what?”

“What he—died of.”

Jimmy pursed up his lips.

“Heart?” he hazarded.

Ronny gave a short, scornful laugh.

“T say, Ronny,” said Jimmy.

“Well?”

Jimmy found a difficulty in going on.

“You don’t mean—you aren’t thinking—I mean,
you haven’t got it into your head that—that, well, I
mean he wasn’t biffed on the head or anything? Tred-
well’s locking the door and all that.”

It seemed to Jimmy that his words deserved an an-
swer, but Ronny continued to stare straight out in
front of him. |

Jimmy shook his head and relapsed into silence. He

eee

THE JOKE THAT FAILED 27

didn’t see that there was anything to do except just
wait. So he waited.

It was Tredwell who disturbed them.

“The doctor would like to see you two gentlemen in
the library, if you please, sir.”

Ronny sprang up. Jimmy followed him.

Dr. Cartwright was a thin, energetic young man with
a clever face. He greeted them with a brief nod.
Pongo, looking more serious and spectacled than ever,
performed introductions.

“T understand you were a great friend of Mr.
Wade’s,” the doctor said to Ronny.

“Fis greatest friend.”

“H’m. Well, this business seems straightforward
enough. Sad, though. He looked a healthy young
chap. Do you know if he was in the habit of taking
stuff to make him sleep?”

“Make him sleep.” Ronny stared. “He always
slept like a top.”

“You never heard him complain of sleeplessness?”

“Never.”

“Well, the facts are simple enough. There'll have
to be an inquest, I’m afraid, nevertheless.”

“How did he die?”

“There’s not much doubt; I should say an overdose
of chloral. The stuff was by his ote And a bottle and
glass. Very sad, these things are.”

It was Jimmy who asked the question which he felt
was trembling on his friend’s lips, and yet which the
other could somehow or other not get out.

28 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“There’s no question of—foul play?”

The doctor looked at him sharply.

“Why do you say that? Any cause to suspect it,
eh?”
' Jimmy looked at Ronny. If Ronny knew anything
now was the time to speak. But to his astonishment
Ronny shook his head.

“No cause whatever,” he said clearly.

“And suicide—eh?”

“Certainly not.”

Ronny was emphatic. The doctor was not so clearly
convinced.

“No troubles that you know of? Money troubles? .

A woman?”

Again Ronny shook his head.

“Now about his relations. They must be notified.”

“He’s got a sister—a half-sister rather. Lives at
Deane Priory. About twenty miles from here. When
he wasn’t in town Gerry lived with her.”

“Fm,” said the doctor. ‘Well, she must be told.”

“Tl go,” said Ronny. “It’s a rotten job, but some-
body’s got to do it.” He looked at Jimmy. “You
know her, don’t you?”

“Slightly. I’ve danced with her once or twice.”

“Then we’ll go in your car. You don’t mind, do you?
I can’t face it alone.”

“That’s all right,” said Jimmy reassuringly. “I was
going to suggest it myself. Ill go and get the old bus
cranked up.”

He was glad to have something todo. Ronny’s man-

THE JOKE THAT FAILED 29

ner puzzled him. What did he know or suspect? And
why had he not voiced his suspicions, if he had them,
to the doctor.

Presently the two friends were skimming along in
Jimmy’s car with a cheerful disregard for such things
as speed limits.

“Jimmy,” said Ronny at last, “I suppose you’re
about the best pal I have—now.”

“Well,” said Jimmy, “what about it?”

He spoke gruffly.

“There’s something I’d like to tell you. Something
you ought to know.”

“About Gerry Wade?”

“Yes, about Gerry Wade.”

Jimmy waited.

“Well?” he inquired at last.

“T don’t know that I ought to,” said Ronny.

“Why?”

“T’m bound by a kind of promise.”

“Oh! Well then, perhaps you’d better not.”

There was a silence.

“And yet, I’d like— You see, Jimmy, your brains
are better than mine.”

“They could easily be that,” said Jimmy unkindly.

“No, I can’t,” said Ronny suddenly.

~“AMl right,” said Jimmy. “Just as you like. 4

After a long silence, Ronny said:

““What’s she like?”

“Whore”

“This girl. Gerry’s sister.”

30 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Jimmy was silent for some minutes, then he said in
a voice that had somehow or other altered:

“She’s all right. In fact—well, she’s a corker.”

“Gerry was very devoted to her, I knew. He often
spoke of her.”

“She was very devoted to Gerry. It—it’s going to
hit her hard.”

“Yes, a nasty job.”

They were silent till they reached Deane Priory.

Miss Loraine, the maid told them, was in the garden.
Unless they wanted to see Mrs. Coker—

Jimmy was eloquent that they did not want to see
Mrs. Coker.

“Who’s Mrs. Coker?” asked Ronny as they went
round into the somewhat neglected garden.

“The old trout who lives with Loraine.”

They had stepped out into a paved walk. At the end
of it was a girl with two black spaniels. A small girl,
very fair, dressed in shabby old tweeds. Not at all the
girl that Ronny had expected to see. Not, in fact,
Jimmy’s usual type.

Holding one dog by the collar, she came down the
pathway to meet them.

“How do you do,” she said. ‘You mustn’t mind
Elizabeth. She’s just had some puppies and she’s very
suspicious.”

She had a supremely natural manner and, as she
looked up smiling, the faint wild rose flush deepened
in her cheeks. Her eyes were a very dark blue—like
cornflowers.

—

THE JOKE THAT FAILED 31

Suddenly they widened—was it with alarm? As
though, already, she guessed.

Jimmy hastened to speak.

“This is Ronny Devereux, Miss Wade. You must
often have heard Gerry speak of him.”

“Oh! yes.” She turned a lovely, warm, welcoming
smile on him. ‘You’ve both been staying at Chimneys,
haven’t you? Why didn’t you bring Gerry over with
your”

“We—er—couldn’t,” said Ronny, and then stopped.

Again Jimmy saw the look of fear flash into her eyes.

“Miss Wade,” he said, “I’m afraid—I mean, we’ve
got bad news for you.”

She was on the alert in a moment.

“Gerry?”

“Yes—Gerry. He’s—”

She stamped her foot with sudden passion.

“Oh! tell me—tell me—” She turned suddenly on
Ronny. “Yow’ll tell me.”

Jimmy felt a pang of jealousy, and in that moment
he knew what up to now he had hesitated to admit to
himself. He knew why Helen and Nancy and Socks
were just “girls” to him and nothing more.

He only dalf heard Ronny’s voice saying gravely:

“Yes, Miss Wade, I’ll tell you. Gerry is dead.”

She had plenty of pluck. She gasped and drew back,
but in a minute or two she was asking eager, searching
questions. How? When?

Ronny answered her as gently as he could.

“Sleeping draught? Gerry?”

32 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

The incredulity in her voice was plain. Jimmy gave
her a glance. It was almost a glance of warning. He
had a sudden feeling that Loraine in her innocence
might say too much.

In his turn he explained as gently as possible the
need for an inquest. She shuddered. She declined
their offer of taking her back to Chimneys with them,
but explained she would come over later. She had a
two-seater of her own.

“But I want to be—be alone a little first,” she said
piteously.

“T know,” said Ronny.

“That’s all right,” said Jimmy.

They looked at her, feeling awkward and helpless.

“Thank you both ever so much for coming.”

They drove back in silence and there was something
like constraint between them.

“My God! that girl’s plucky,” said Ronny once.

Jimmy agreed.

“Gerry was my friend,” said Ronny. “It’s up to me
to keep an eye on her.”

“Oh! rather. Of course.”

They said no more.

On returning to Chimneys Jimmy was waylaid by a
tearful Lady Coote. ids
. “That poor boy,” she kept repeating. “That poor

oy.”

oe made all the suitable remarks he could think
of.

ee EEE

THE JOKE THAT FAILED 33

Lady Coote told him at great length various details
about the decease of various dear friends of hers.
Jimmy listened with a show of sympathy and at last
managed to detach himself without actual rudeness.

He ran lightly up the stairs. Ronny was just emerg-
ing from Gerald Wade’s room. He seemed taken
aback at the sight of Jimmy.

“I’ve been in to see him,” he said. “Are you going
ine”

“T don’t think so,” said Jimmy, who was a healthy
young man with a natural dislike to being reminded o
death.

“T think all his friends ought to.”

“Oh! do you?” said Jimmy, and registered to him-
self an impression that Ronny Devereux was damned
odd about it all.

“Yes. It’s a sign of respect.”

Jimmy sighed, but gave in.

“Oh! very well,’ he said, and passed in, setting his
teeth a little.

There were white flowers arranged on the coverlet,
and the room had been tidied and set to rights.

Jimmy gave one quick, nervous glance at the still,
white face. Could that be cherubic, pink Gerry Wade?
That still peaceful figure. He shivered.

As he turned to leave the room, his glance swept
the mantelshelf and he stopped in astonishment. The
alarum clocks had been ranged along it neatly in a
row.

34 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

He went out sharply. Ronny was waiting for him.

“Looks very peaceful and all that. Rotten luck on
him,”’ mumbled Jimmy.

Then he said:

“T say, Ronny, who arranged all those clocks like
that in a row?”

“How should I know? One of the servants, I sup-
pose.”

“The funny thing is,” said Jimmy, “that there are
seven of them, not eight. One of them’s missing. Did
you notice that?”

Ronny made an inaudible sound.

“Seven instead of eight,” said Jimmy, frowning. “I
wonder why.”

CHAPTER IV
A LETTER

“INCONSIDERATE, that’s what I call it,” said Lord
Caterham.

He spoke in a gentle, plaintive voice and seemed
pleased with the adjective he had found.

“Yes, distinctly inconsiderate. I often find these
self-made men are inconsiderate. Very possibly that
is why they amass such large fortunes.” |

He looked mournfully out over his ancestral acres,
of which he had to-day regained possession.

His daughter, Lady Eileen Brent, known to her
friends and society in general as “Bundle,” laughed.

“You'll certainly never amass a large fortune,” she
observed dryly, “though you didn’t do so badly out of
old Coote, sticking him for this place. What was he
like? Presentable?”

“One of those large men,” said Lord Caterham,
shuddering slightly, “with a red square face and iron-
grey hair. Powerful, you know. What they call a
forceful personality. The kind of a man you’d get if
a steam-roller were turned into a human being.”

“Rather tiring?” suggested Bundle sympathetically.

“Frightfully tiring, full of all the most depressing
virtues like sobriety and punctuality. I don’t know
which are the worst, powerful personalities or earnest

35

36 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

politicians. I do so prefer the cheerful inefficient.”

“A cheerful inefficient wouldn’t have been able to
pay you the price you asked for this old mausoleum,”
Bundle reminded him.

Lord Caterham winced.

“TI wish you wouldn’t use that word, Bundle. We
were just getting away from the subject.”

“T don’t see why you're so frightfully sensitive about
it,” said Bundle. “After all, people must die some-
where.”

“They needn’t die in my house,” said Lord Cater-
ham.

“T don’t see why not. Lots of people have. Masses
_ of stuffy old great grandfathers and grandmothers.”

“That’s different,” said Lord Caterham. “Naturally
I expect Brents to die here—they don’t count. But I
do object to strangers. And I especially object to in-
quests. The thing will become a habit soon. This is
the second. You remember all that fuss we had four
years ago? For which, by the way, I hold George
Lomax entirely to blame.”

“And now you're blaming poor old steam-roller
Coote. I’m sure he was quite as annoyed about it as
anyone.”

“Very inconsiderate,” said Lord Caterham obsti-
nately. “People who are likely to do that sort of thing
oughtn’t to be asked to stay. And you may say what
you like, Bundle, I don’t like inquests. I never have
and I never shall.”

“Well, this wasn’t the same sort of thing as the last

A LETTER 37

one,” said Bundle soothingly. “I mean, it wasn’t a
murder.”

“It might have been—from the fuss that thick-head
of an inspector made. He’s never got over that busi-
ness four years ago. He thinks every death that takes
place here must necessarily be a case of foul play
fraught with grave political significance. You’ve no
idea the fuss he made. I’ve been hearing about it from
Tredwell. Tested everything imaginable for finger-
prints. And of course they only found the dead man’s
own. The clearest case imaginable—though whether it
was suicide or accident is another matter.” .

“T met Gerry Wade once,” said Bundle. “He was a
friend of Bill’s. You'd have liked him, Father. I never _
saw anyone more cheerfully inefficient than he was.”

“I don’t like anyone who comes and dies in my
house on purpose to annoy me,” said Lord Caterham
obstinately.

“But I certainly can’t imagine anyone murdering
him,” continued Bundle. “The idea’s absurd.”

“Of course it is,” said Lord Caterham. “Or would
be to anyone but an ass like Inspector Raglan.”

“T daresay looking for finger-prints made him feel
important,” said Bundle soothingly. “Anyway, they
brought it in ‘Death by misadventure,’ didn’t they?”

_Lord Caterham acquiesced.

“They had to show some consideration for the sis-
ter’s feelings.”

“Was there a sister? I didn’t know.”

“Half-sister, I believe. She was much younger. Old

38 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Wade ran away with her mother—he was always doing
that sort of thing. No woman appealed to him unless
she belonged to another man.”

“I’m glad there’s one bad habit you haven’t got,”
said Bundle.

“T’ve always led a very respectable God-fearing life,”
said -Lord Caterham. “It seems extraordinary, con-
sidering how little harm I do to anybody, that I can’t
be let alone. If only—”

He stopped as Bundle made a sudden excursion
through the window.

“MacDonald,” called Bundle in a clear, autocratic
voice.

The emperor approached. Something that might pos-
sibly have been taken for a smile of welcome tried to
express itself on his countenance, but the natural gloom
of gardeners dispelled it.

“Your ladyship?” said MacDonald.

“How are you?” said Bundle.

“T’m no verra grand,” said MacDonald.

“T wanted to speak to you about the bowling green.
It’s shockingly overgrown. Put someone on to it, will
your”

MacDonald shook his head dubiously.

“It would mean taking William from the lower bor-
der, m’lady.”

“Damn the lower border,” said Bundle. “Let him
start at once. And, MacDonald—”

“Yes, m’lady?” |

“Let’s have some of those grapes in from the far

A LETTER 39

house. I know it’s the wrong time to cut them because
it always is, but I want them all the same.- See?”

Bundle re-entered the library.

“Sorry, Father,” she said, “I wanted to catch Mac-
Donald. Were you speaking?”

“As a’ matter of fact I was,” said Lord Caterham.
“But it doesn’t matter. What were you saying to
MacDonald?”

“Trying to cure him of thinking he’s God Almighty.
But that’s an impossible task. I expect the Cootes
have been bad for him. MacDonald wouldn’t care one
hoot, or even two hoots for the largest steam-roller that
ever was. What’s Lady Coote like?”

Lord Caterham considered the question.

“Very like my idea of Mrs. Siddons,” he said at last.
“T should think she went in a lot for amateur theatri-
cals. I gather she was very upset about the clock
business.”

“What clock business?”

“Tredwell has just been telling me. It seems the
house-party had some joke on. They bought a lot of —
alarum clocks and hid them about this young Wade’s
room. And then, of course, the poor chap was dead.
Which made the whole thing rather it %

Bundle nodded.

-“Tredwell told me something else rather odd about
the clocks,” continued Lord Caterham, who was now
quite enjoying himself. “It seems that somebody col-
lected them all and put them in a row on the mantel-
piece after the poor fellow was dead.”

40 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Well, why not?” said Bundle.

“TI don’t see why not myself,” said Lord Caterham.
“But apparently there was some fuss about it. No one
would own up to having done it, you see. All the serv-
ants were questioned and swore they hadn’t touched
the beastly things. In fact, it was rather a mystery.
And then the coroner asked questions at the inquest,
and you know how difficult it is to explain things to peo-
ple of that class.”

“Perfectly foul,” agreed Bundle.

“Of course,” said Lord Caterham, “‘it’s very difficult
to get the hang of things afterwards. I didn’t quite see
the point of half the things Tredwell told me. By the
way, Bundle, the fellow died in your room.”

Bundle made a grimace.

“Why need people die in my room?” she asked with
some indignation.

“That’s just what I’ve been saying,” said Lord
Caterham, in triumph. “Inconsiderate. Everybody’s
damned inconsiderate nowadays.” ;

“Not that I mind,” said Bundle valiantly. “Why
should I?”

“I should,” said her father. “I should mind very
much. I should dream things, you know—spectral
hands and clanking chains.”

“Well,” said Bundle, “Great Aunt Louisa died in
your bed. I wonder you don’t see her spook hovering
over you.”

“I do sometimes,” said Lord Caterham, shuddering.
“Especially after lobster.”

A LETTER 4!

“Well, thank heavens I’m not superstitious,” de-
clared Bundle. .

Yet that evening, as she sat in front of her bedroom
fire, a slim, pyjamaed figure, she found her thoughts re-
verting to that cheery, vacuous young man, Gerry
Wade. Impossible to believe that anyone so full of the
joy of living could deliberately have committed suicide.
No, the other solution must be the right one. He had
taken a sleeping draught and by a pure mistake had
swallowed an overdose. That was possible. She did
not fancy that Gerry Wade had been overburdened in
an intellectual capacity.

Her gaze shifted to the mantelpiece and she began
thinking about the story of the clocks. Her maid had
been full of that, having just been primed by the sec-
ond housemaid. She had added a detail which appar-
ently Tredwell had not thought worth while retailing to
Lord Caterham, but which had piqued Bundle’s curi-
osity.

Seven clocks had been neatly ranged on the mantel-
piece; the last and remaining one had been found on the
lawn outside, where it had obviously been thrown from
the window.

Bundle puzzled over that point now. It seemed such
an extraordinarily purposeless thing to do. She could
imagine that one of the maids might have tidied the
clocks and then, frightened by the inquisition into the
matter, have denied doing so. But surely no maid
would have thrown a clock into the garden.

Had Gerry Wade done so when its first sharp sum-

42 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

mons woke him? But no; that again was impossible.
Bundle remembered hearing that his death must have
taken place in the early hours of the morning, and he
would have been in a comatose condition for some
time before.that.

Bundle frowned. ‘This business of the clocks was
curious. She must get hold of Bill Eversleigh. He
had been there, she knew.

To think was to act with Bundle. She got up and
went over to the writing desk. It was an inlaid affair
with a lid that rolled back. Bundle sat down at it,
pulled a sheet of notepaper towards her and wrote.

Dear BILL,—

She paused to pull out the lower part of the desk.
It had stuck half-way, as she remembered it often did.
Bundle tugged at it impatiently but it did not move.
She recalled that on a former occasion an envelope had
been pushed back with it and had jammed it for the
time being. She took a thin paperknife and slipped it
into the narrow crack. She was so far successful that
a corner of white paper showed. Bundle caught hold
of it and drew it out. It was the first sheet of a letter,
somewhat crumpled.

It was the date that first caught Bundle’s eye. A
big flourishing date that leaped out from the paper.
Sept. 21st. .

“September 21st,” said Bundle slowly. ‘Why,
surely that was—”

She broke off. Yes, she was sure of it. The 22nd
was the day Gerry Wade was found dead. This, then,

A LETTER 43

was a letter he must have been PHERE on the very
evening of the tragedy.

Bundle smoothed it out and read it. It was un-
finished.

“My Dariinc Lorarne,—I will be down on
Wednesday. Am feeling awfully fit and rather pleased
with myself all round. It will be heavenly to see you.
Look here, do forget what I said about that Seven Dials
business. I thought it was going to be more or less of a
joke, but it isn’t—anything but. I’m sorry I ever said
anything about it—it’s not the kind of business kids
like you ought to be mixed up in. So forget about it,
see?
“Something else I wanted to tell you—but I’m so
sleepy I can’t keep my eyes open.

“Oh, about Lurcher; I think—”

Here the letter broke off.

Bundle sat frowning. Seven Dials. Where was
that? Some rather slummy district of London, she
fancied. The words Seven Dials reminded her of some-
thing else, but for the moment she couldn’t think of
what. Instead her attention fastened on two phrases.
“Am feeling awfully fit...” and “I’m so sleepy I
can’t keep my eyes open.”

That didn’t fit in. That didn’t fit in at all. For it
was that very night that Gerry Wade had taken such
a heavy dose of chloral that he never woke again.
And if what he had written in that letter were true,
why should he have taken it?

44 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Bundle shook her head. She looked round the room
and gave a slight shiver. Supposing Gerry Wade were
watching her now. In this room he had died .. .

She sat very still. The silence was unbroken save
for the ticking of her little gold clock. That sounded
unnaturally loud and important.

Bundle glanced towards the mantelpiece. A vivid
picture rose before her mind’s eye. The dead man
lying on the bed, and seven clocks ticking on the
mantelpiece—ticking loudly, ominously . . . ticking
Sisley Ele ketene sog.t2

CHAPTER V
THE MAN IN THE ROAD

“FATHER,” said Bundle, opening the door of Lord
Caterham’s special sanctum and putting her head in,
“I’m going up to town in the Hispano. I can’t stand
the monotony down here any longer.”

“We only got home yesterday,” complained Lord
Caterham. |

“I know. It seems like a hundred years. I’d for-
gotten how dull the country could be.”

“T don’t agree with you,” said Lord Caterham. “It’s
peaceful, that’s what it is—peaceful. And extremely
comfortable. I appreciate getting back to Tredwell
more than I can tell you. That man studies my com-
fort in the most marvellous manner. Somebody came
round only this morning to know if they could hold a
tally for girl guides here—”

“A rally,” interrupted Bundle.

“Rally or tally—it’s all the same. Some silly word
meaning nothing whatever. But it would have put me
in a very awkward position—having to refuse—in fact,
I probably shouldn’t have refused. But Tredwell got
me out of it. I’ve forgotten what he said—something
damned ingenious which couldn’t hurt anybody’s feel-
ings and which knocked the idea on the head abso-

lutely.” 7
45

‘46 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Being comfortable isn’t enough for me,” said
Bundle. “I want excitement.”

Lord Caterham shuddered.

“Didn’t we have enough excitement four years ago?”
he demanded plaintively.

“I’m about ready for some more,” said Bundle.
“Not that I expect I shall find any in town. But at
any rate I shan’t dislocate my jaw with yawning.”

“In my experience,” said Lord Caterham, “people
who go about looking for trouble usually find it.” He
yawned. “All the same,” he added, “I wouldn’t mind
running up to town myself.”

“Well, come on,” said Bundle. “But be quick, be-
cause I’m in a hurry.”

Lord Caterham, who had begun to rise from his
chair, paused.

“Did you say you were in a hurry?” he asked sus-
piciously.

“Tn the devil of a hurry,” said Bundle.

“That settles it,” said Lord Caterham. “I’m not
coming. To be driven by you in the Hispano when
you’re in a hurry—no, it’s not fair on any elderly man.
I shall stay here.”

“Please yourself,” said Bundle, and withdrew.

Tredwell took her place.

“The vicar, my lord, is most anxious to see you,
some unfortunate controversy having arisen about the
status of the Boys’ Brigade.”

Lord Caterham groaned.

“T rather fancied, my lord, that I had heard you

THE MAN IN THE ROAD yee

mention at breakfast that you were strolling down to
the village this morning to converse with the vicar on
the subject.”

“Did you tell him so?” asked Lord Caterham
eagerly.

“T did, my lord. He departed, if I may say so, hot-
foot. I hope I did right, my lord?”

“Of course you did, Tredwell. You are always right.
You couldn’t go wrong if you tried.”

Tredwell smiled benignly and withdrew.

Bundle meanwhile was sounding the Klaxon im-
patiently before the lodge gates, while a small child
came hastening out with all speed from the lodge,
admonishment from her mother following her.

“Make haste, Katie. That be her ladyship in a
mortal hurry as always.”

It was indeed characteristic of Bundle to be in a
hurry, especially when driving a car. She had skill and
nerve and was a good driver; had it been otherwise her
reckless pace would have ended in disaster more than
once.

It was a crisp October day, with a blue sky and a
dazzling sun. The sharp tang of the air brought the
blood to Bundle’s cheeks and filled her with the zest
of living.

She had that morning sent Gerald Wade’s. unfinished
letter to Loraine Wade at Deane Priory, enclosing a
few explanatory lines. The curious impression it had
made upon her was somewhat dimmed in the daylight,
yet it still struck her as needing explanation. She in-

48 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

tended to get hold of Bill Eversleigh sometime and ex-
tract from him fuller details of the house-party which
had ended so tragically. In the meantime, it was a
lovely morning and she felt particularly well and the
Hispano was running like a dream.

_ Bundle pressed her foot down on the accelerator and
the Hispano responded at once. Mile after mile van-
ished, traffic stops were few and far between and
Bundle had a clear stretch of road in front of her.

And then, without any warning whatever, a man
reeled out of the hedge and on to the road right in
front of the car. To stop in time was out of the ques-
tion. With all her might Bundle wrenched at the steer-
ing wheel and swerved out to the right. The car was
nearly in the ditch—nearly, but not quite. It was a
dangerous manceuvre, but it succeeded. Bundle was al-
most certain that she had missed the man.

She looked back and felt a sickening sensation in
the middle of her anatomy. The car had not passed
over the man, but nevertheless it must have struck him
in passing. He was lying face downwards on the road,
and he lay ominously still.

Bundle jumped out and ran back. She had never yet
run over anything more important than a stray hen.
The fact that the accident was hardly her fault did not
weigh with her at the minute. The man had seemed
drunk, but drunk or not, she had killed him. She was
quite sure she had killed him. Her heart beat sick-
eningly in great pounding thumps, sounding right up
in her ears.

THE MAN IN THE ROAD 49

She knelt down by the prone figure and turned him
very gingerly over. He neither groaned nor moaned.
He was young, she saw, rather a pleasant-faced young
man, well dressed and wearing a small toothbrush
moustache.

There was no external mark of injury that she could
see, but she was quite positive that he was either dead
or dying. His eyelids flickered and the eyes half
opened. Piteous eyes, brown and suffering, like a dog’s.
He seemed to be struggling to speak. Bundle bent
right over.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes?”

There was something he wanted to say, she eoutd
see that. Wanted to say badly. And she couldn’t help
him, couldn’t do anything.

At last the words came, a mere sighing breath:

“Seven Dials, 4 < tells.:..”

“Yes,” said Bundle again. It was a name he was
trying to get out—trying with all his failing strength.
“Yes. Who am I to tell?”

“Tell... Jimmy Thesiger...” He got it out at
last, and then, suddenly, his head fell back and his
body went limp.

Bundle sat back on her heels, shivering from head to
foot. She could never have imagined that anything
so awful could have happened to her. He was dead—
and she had killed him. ;

She tried to pull herself together. What must she
do now? A doctor—that was her first thought. It
was possible—just possible—that the man might only

50 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

be unconscious, not dead. Her instinct cried out
against the possibility, but she forced herself to act
upon it. Somehow or other she must get him into the
car and take him to the nearest doctor’s. It was a
deserted stretch of country road and there was no one
to help her.

Bundle, for all her slimness, was strong. She had
muscles of whipcord. She brought the Hispano as close
as possible, and then, exerting all her strength, she
dragged and pulled the inanimate figure into it. It was
a horrid business, and one that made her set her teeth,
but at last she managed it.

Then she jumped into the driver’s seat and started
off. A couple of miles brought her into a small town
and on inquiry she was quickly directed to the doctor’s
house.

Dr. Cassell, a kindly, middle-aged man, was startled
to come into his surgery and find a girl there who was
evidently on the verge of collapse.

Bundle spoke abruptly.

“J—TI think I’ve killed a man. I ran over him. I
brought him along in the car. He’s outside now. I—
I was driving too fast, I suppose. I’ve always driven
too fast.” .

The doctor cast a practised glance over her. He
stepped over to a shelf and poured something into a
glass. He brought it over to her.

“Drink this down,” he said, “and you'll feel better.
You’ve had a shock.”

THE MAN IN THE ROAD 51

Bundle drank obediently and a tinge of colour came
into her pallid face. The doctor nodded approvingly.

“That’s right. Now I want you to sit quietly here.
I'll go out and attend to things. After I’ve made sure
there’s nothing to be done for the poor fellow, I’ll
come back and we'll talk about it.”

He was away some time. Bundle watched the clock
on the mantelpiece. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quar-
ter of an hour, twenty minutes—would he never come?

Then the door opened and Dr. Cassell reappeared.
He looked different—Bundle noticed that at once—
grimmer and at the same time more alert. There was
something else in his manner that she did not quite
understand, a suggestion of repressed excitement.

“Now then, young lady,” he said, “let’s have this
out. You ran over this man, you say. Tell me just
how the accident happened?”

Bundle explained to the best of her ability. The
doctor followed her narrative with keen attention.

“Just so; the car didn’t pass over his body?”

“No. In fact, I thought I’d missed him altogether.”

“He was reeling, you say?”

“Ves, I thought he was drunk.”

‘“‘And he came from the hedge?”

“There was a gate just ead I think. He must
have come through the gate.”

The doctor nodded, then he leaned back in ee chair
and removed his pince-nez.

“I’ve no doubt at all,”’ he said, “that you’re a very

-

52 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

reckless driver, and that you’ll probably run over some
poor fellow and do for him one of these days—but
you haven’t done it this time.”

(Rt 7

“The car never touched him. This man was shot.”

cree eee i LT A ee ap i

CHAPTER VI
SEVEN DIALS AGAIN

BUNDLE stared at him. And very slowly the world,
which for the last three quarters of an hour had been
upside down, shifted till it stood once more the right
way up. It was quite two minutes before Bundle
spoke, but when she did it was no longer the panic-
stricken girl but the real Bundle, cool, efficient and
logical.

“How could he be shot?” she said.

“T don’t know how he could,” said the doctor dryly.
“But he was. He’s got a rifle bullet in him all right.
He bled internally, that’s why you didn’t notice any-
thing.”

Bundle nodded.

“The question is,” the doctor continued, ‘Who shot
him? You saw nobody about?”

Bundle shook her head.

“Tt’s odd,” said the doctor. “If it was an accident,
you’d expect the fellow who did it would come running
to the rescue—unless just possibly he didn’t know what

he’d done.”
“There was no one about,” said Bundle. “On the

road, that is.”
“Tt seems to me,” said the doctor, “that the poor
lad must have been running—the bullet got him just
53

54 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

as he passed through the gate and he came reeling on
to the road in consequence. You didn’t hear a shot?”

Bundle shook her head.

“But I probably shouldn’t anyway,” she said, “with
the noise of.the car.”

“Just so. He didn’t say anything before he died?”

‘He muttered a few words.”

“Nothing to throw light on the tragedy?”

“No. He wanted something—I don’t know what—
told to a friend of his. Oh! yes, and he mentioned
Seven Dials.”

“H’m,” said Doctor Cassell. ‘Not a likely neigh-
bourhood for one of his class. Perhaps his assailant
came from there. Well, we needn’t worry about that
now. You can leave it in my hands. I'll notify the
police. You must, of course, leave your name and
address, as the police are sure to want to question you.
In fact, perhaps you’d better come round to the police
station with me now. They might say I ought to have
detained you.”

They went together in Bundle’s car. The police
inspector was a slow-speaking man. He was some-
what overawed by Bundle’s name and address when
she gave it to him, and he took down her statement
with great care.

“Lads!” he said. “That’s what it is. Lads prac-
tising! Cruel stupid, them young varmints are. Al-
ways loosing off at birds with no consideration for
anyone as may be the other side of a hedge.”

The doctor thought it a most unlikely solution, but

SEVEN DIALS AGAIN 55

he realized that the case would soon be in abler hands
and it did not seem worth while to make objections.

“Name of deceased?” asked the sergeant, moisten-
ing his pencil.

“He had a cardcase on him. He appears to have
been a Mr. Ronald Devereux, with an address in the
Albany.”

Bundle frowned. The name Ronald Devereux awoke
some chord of remembrance. She was sure she had
heard it before.

It was not until she was half-way back to Chimneys
in the car that it came to her. Of course! Ronny
Devereux. Bill’s friend in the Foreign Office. He and
Bill and—yes—Gerald Wade.

As this last realization came to her, Bundle nearly
went into the hedge. First Gerald Wade—then Ronny
Devereux. Gerry Wade’s death might have been nat-
ural—the result of carelessness—but Ronny Devereux’s
surely bore a more sinister interpretation.

And then Bundle remembered something else. Seven
Dials! When the dying man had said it, it had seemed
vaguely familiar. Now she knew why. Gerald Wade
had mentioned Seven Dials in that last letter of his
written to his sister on the night before his death. And
that again connected up with something else that es-
caped her.

Thinking all these things over, Bundle iad slowed
down to such a sober pace that nobody would have
recognized her. She drove the car round to the garage
and went in search of her father.

56 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Lord Caterham was happily reading a catalogue of a
forthcoming sale of rare editions and was immeasurably
astonished to see Bundle.

“Even you,” he said, ‘can’t have been to London
and back in this time.”

“T haven’t been to London,” said Bundle. “I ran
over a man.”

“What?”

“Only I didn’t really. He was shot.”

“How could he have been?”

“T don’t know how he could have been, but he was.”

“But why did you shoot him?”

“7 didn’t shoot him.”

“You shouldn’t shoot people,” said Lord Caterham
in a tone of mild remonstrance. “You shouldn’t really.
I daresay some of them richly deserve it—but all the
same it will lead to trouble.”

“T tell you I didn’t shoot him.”

“Well, who did?”

“Nobody knows,” said Bundle.

“Nonsense,” said Lord Caterham. “A man can’t be
shot and run over without anyone having done it.”

“He wasn’t run over,” said Bundle.

“T thought you said he was.”

“T said I thought I had.”

“A tyre burst, I suppose,” said Lord Caterham.
“That does sound like a shot. It says so in detective
stories.”

“You really are perfectly impossible, Father. You
don’t seem to have the brains of a rabbit.”

mss
SEVEN DIALS AGAIN 57

“Not at all,” said Lord Caterham. ‘You come in
with a wildly impossible tale about men being run over
and shot and I don’t know what, and then you expect
me to know all about it by magic.”

Bundle sighed wearily.

“Just attend,” she said. “I'll tell you all about it
in words of one syllable.”

“There,” she said when she had concluded. “Now
have you got it?”

“Of course. I understand perfectly now. I can
make allowances for your being a little upset, my dear.
I was not far wrong when I remarked to you before
starting out that people looking for trouble usually
found it. I am thankful,” finished Lord Caterham with
a slight shiver, “that I stayed quietly here.”

He picked up the catalogue again.

“Father, where is Seven Dials?”

“Tn the East End somewhere, I fancy. I have fre-
quently observed buses going there—or do I mean
Seven Sisters? I have never been there myself, I am
thankful to say. Just as well, because I don’t fancy it
is the sort of spot I should like. And yet, curiously
enough, I seem to have heard of it in some connection
just lately.”

“You don’t know a Jimmy Thesiger, do you?”

‘Lord Caterham was now engrossed in his catalogue
once more. He had made an effort to be intelligent on
the subject of Seven Dials. This time he made hardly

any effort at all.

58 THit SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Thesiger,” he murmured vaguely. “Thesiger. One
of the Yorkshire Thesigers?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. Do attend, Father.
This is important.”

Lord Caterham made a desperate effort to look intel-
ligent without really having to give his mind to the
matter.

“There are some Yorkshire Thesigers,” he said ear-
nestly. ‘And unless I am mistaken some Devonshire
Thesigers also. Your Great Aunt Selina married a
Thesiger.”

“What good is that to me?” cried Bundle.

Lord Caterham chuckled.

“Tt was very little good to her, if I remember
rightly.”

“You’re impossible,” said Bundle, rising. “I shall
have to get hold of Bill.”

“Do, dear,” said her father absently as he turned a
page. “Certainly. By all means. Quite so.”

Bundle rose to her feet with an impatient sigh.

“T wish I could remember what that letter said,” she
murmured more to herself than aloud. “I didn’t read it
very carefully. Something about a joke—that the
Seven Dials business wasn’t a joke.”

Lord Caterham emerged suddenly from his cata-
logue.

“Seven Dials?” he said. “Of course. I’ve got it
now.”

“Got what?”

“I know why it sounded so familiar. George Lomax

SEVEN DIALS AGAIN 59

has been over. Tredwell failed for once and let him
in. He was on his way up to town. It seems he’s having
some political party at the Abbey next week and he
got a warning letter.”

“What do you mean by a warning letter?”

“Well, I don’t really know. He didn’t go into de-
tails. I gather it said ‘Beware’ and ‘Trouble is at
hand,’ and all those sort of things. But anyway it was
written from Seven Dials, I distinctly remember his
saying so. He was going up to town to consult Scotland
Yard about it. You know George?”

Bundle nodded. She was well acquainted with that
public-spirited Cabinet Minister, George Lomax, His
Maijesty’s permanent Under Secretary of State for For-
eign Affairs, who was shunned by many because of his
inveterate habit of quoting from his public speeches in
private. In allusion to his bulging eyeballs, he was
known to many-—Bill Eversleigh among others—as
Codders.

“Tell me,” she said, “was Codders interested at all
in Gerald Wade’s death?”

“Not that I ever heard of. He may have been, of
course.”

Bundle said nothing for some minutes. She was
busily engaged in trying to remember the exact word-
ing of the letter she had sent on to Loraine Wade, and
at the same time she was trying to picture the girl to
whom it had been written. What sort of a girl was
this to whom, apparently, Gerald Wade was so de-
voted? The more she thought over it, the more it

ee

60 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

seemed to her that it was an unusual letter for a brother
to write.

“Did you say the Wade girl was Gerry’s half-sister?”
she asked suddenly.

“Well, of course, strictly speaking, I suppose she
isn’t—wasn’t, I mean—his sister at all.”

“But her name’s Wade?”

“Not really. She wasn’t old Wade’s child. As I was
saying, he ran away with his second wife, who was
married to a perfect blackguard. I suppose the Courts
gave the rascally husband the custody of the child, but
he certainly didn’t avail himself of the privilege. Old
Wade got very fond of the child and insisted that she
should be called by his name.”

“T see,” said Bundle. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Something that puzzled me about that letter.”

“She’s rather a pretty girl, I believe,’ said Lord
Caterham. “Or so I’ve heard.”

Bundle went upstairs thoughtfully. She had sev-
eral objects in view. First she must find this Jimmy
Thesiger. Bill, perhaps, would be helpful there.
Ronny Devereux had been a friend of Bill’s. If Jimmy
Thesiger was a friend of Ronny’s, the chances were
that Bill would know him too. Then there was the girl,
Loraine Wade. It was possible that she could throw
some light on the problem of Seven Dials. Evidently
Gerry Wade had said something to her about it. His
anxiety that she should forget the fact had a sinister
suggestion.

CHAPTER VII
BUNDLE PAYS A CALL

GetT1nc hold of Bill presented few difficulties. Bundle
motored up to town on the following morning—this
time without adventures by the way—and rang him
up. Bill responded with alacrity, and made various
suggestions as to lunch, tea, dinner and dancing. All of
which suggestions Bundle turned down as made.

“In a day or two, I’ll come and frivol with you, Bill.
But for the moment I’m up on business.”

“Oh,” said Bill. ‘What a beastly bore.”

“It’s not that kind,” said Bundle. “It’s anything
but boring. Bill, do you know anyone called Jimmy
Thesiger?”

“Of course. So do you.”

“No, I don’t,” said Bundle.

“Yes, you do. You must. Everyone knows old
Jimmy.”

“Sorry,” said Bundle. “Just for once I don’t seem
to be everyone.”

“Oh! but you must know Jimmy—pink-faced chap.
Looks a bit of an ass. But really he’s got as many
brains as I have.”

“You don’t say so,” said Bundle. ‘He must feel a
bit top heavy when he walks about.”

“Was that meant for sarcasm?”
61

62 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“It was a feeble effort at it. What does Jimmy
Thesiger do?”

“How do you mean, what does he do?”

“Does being at the Foreign Office prevent you from
understanding your native language?”

“Oh! I see, you mean, has he got a job? No, he just
tools around. Why should he do anything?”

“In fact, more money than brains?”

“Oh! I wouldn’t say that. I told you just now that
he had more brains than you’d think.”

Bundle was silent. She was feeling more and more
doubtful. This gilded youth did not sound a very
promising ally. And yet it was his name that had
come first to the dying man’s lips. Bill’s voice chimed
in suddenly with singular appropriateness.

“Ronny always thought a lot of his brains. You
know, Ronny Devereux. Thesiger was his greatest
pa »

“Ronny—”

Bundle stopped, undecided. Clearly Bill knew noth-
ing of the other’s death. It occurred to Bundle for the
first time that it was odd the morning papers had con-
tained nothing of the tragedy. Surely it was the kind
of spicy item of news that would never be passed over.
There could be one explanation, and one explanation
only. The police, for reasons of their own, were keep-
ing the matter quiet. |

Bill’s voice was continuing.

“TI haven’t seen Ronny for an age—not since that

BUNDLE PAYS A CALL 63°

week-end down at your place. You know, when poor
old Gerry Wade passed out.” =

He paused and then went on.

“Rather a foul business that altogether. I expect
you’ve heard about it. I say, Bundle—are you there
still?”

“Of course I’m here.”

“Well, you haven’t said anything for an age. I be-
gan to think that you had gone away.”

“No, I was just thinking over something.”

Should she tell Bill of Ronny’s death? She decided
against it—it was not the sort of thing to be said over
the telephone. But soon, very soon, she must have a
meeting with Bill. In the meantime—

“Bill?”

“Hullo.”

“T might dine with you to-morrow night.”

“Good, and we’ll dance afterwards. I’ve got a lot
to talk to you about. As a matter of fact I’ve been
rather hard hit—the foulest luck—”

“Well, tell me about it to-morrow,” said Bundle,
cutting him short rather unkindly. ‘In the meantime,
what is Jimmy Thesiger’s address?”

“Jimmy Thesiger?”

“That’s what I said.”

“He’s got rooms in Jermyn Street—do I mean
Jermyn Street or the other one?” ,

“Bring that class A brain to bear upon it.”

“Yes, Jernigan Street. Wait a bit and I’ll give you
the number.”

64 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

There was a pause.

“Are you there still?”

“I’m always there.”

“Well, one never knows with these dashed tele-
phones. The number is 103. Got it?”

“103. Thank you, Bill.”

“Ves, but I say—what do you want it for? You said
you didn’t know him.”

“T don’t, but I shall in half an hour.”

“You're going round to his rooms?”

“Quite right, Sherlock.”

“Ves, but, I say—well, for one thing he won’t be
up.”

“Won't be up?”

“T shouldn’t think so. I mean, who would if they
hadn’t got to? Look at it that way. You’ve no idea
what an effort it is for me to get here at eleven every
morning, and the fuss Codders makes if I’m behind
time is simply appalling. You haven’t the least idea,
Bundle, what a dog’s life this is—”

“You shall tell me all about it to-morrow night,”
said Bundle hastily.

She slammed down the receiver and took stock of
the situation. First she glanced at the clock. It was
five and twenty minutes to twelve. Despite Bill’s
knowledge of his friend’s habits, she inclined to the be-
lief that Mr. Thesiger would by now be in a fit state to
receive visitors. She took a taxi to 103 Jermyn Street.

The door was opened by a perfect example of the
retired gentleman’s gentleman. His face, expressionless

BUNDLE PAYS A CALL 65

and polite, was such a face as may be found by the
score in that particular district of London.

“Will you come this way, madam?”

He ushered her upstairs into an extremely comfort-
able sitting-room containing leather covered arm-chairs
of immense dimensions. Sunk in one of those mon-
strosities was another girl, rather younger than Bundle.
A small, fair girl, dressed in black.

“What name shall I say, madam?”

“T won’t give any name,” said Bundle. “I just want
to see Mr. Thesiger on important business.”

The grave gentleman bowed and withdrew, shut-
ting the door noiselessly behind him.

There was a pause.

“It’s a nice morning,” said the fair girl timidly.

“Tt’s an awfully nice morning,” agreed Bundle.

There was another pause.

“T motored up from the country this morning,”
said Bundle, plunging once more into speech. ‘And
I thought it was going to be one of those foul fogs.
But it wasn’t.”

“No,” said the other girl. “It wasn’t.” And she
added: “I’ve come up from the country too.”

Bundle eyed her more attentively. She had been
slightly annoyed at finding the other there. Bundle
belonged to the energetic order of people who like “to
get on with it,” and she foresaw that the second visitor
would have to be disposed of and got rid of before
she could broach her own business. It was not a topic
she could introduce before a stranger. .

66 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Now, as she looked more closely, an extraordinary
idea rose in her brain. Could it be? Yes, the girl was
in deep mourning; her black, silk-clad ankles showed
that. It was a long shot, but Bundle was convinced
that her idea_was right. She drew a long breath.

“Look here,” she said. “Are you by any chance
Loraine Wade?”

Loraine’s eyes opened wide.

“Ves, I am. How clever of you to know. We’ve
never met, have we?”

Bundle shook her head.

“T wrote to you yesterday, though. I’m Bundle
Brent.”

“Tt was so very kind of you to send me Gerry’s
letter,” said Loraine. “I’ve written to thank you. I
never expected to see you here.”

“Tl tell you why I’m here,” said Bundle. “Did you
know Ronny Devereux?”

Loraine nodded.

“He came over the day that Gerry—you know. And
he’s been to see me two or three times since. He was
one of Gerry’s greatest friends.”

“IT know. Well—he’s dead.”

Loraine’s lips parted in surprise.

“Dead! But he always seemed so fit.”

Bundle narrated the events of the preceding day as
briefly as possible. A look of fear and horror came
into Loraine’s face.

“Then it is true. It és true.”

“What’s true?”

BUNDLE PAYS A CALL 67

“What I’ve thought—what I’ve been thinking all
these weeks. Gerald didn’t die a natural death. He
was killed.”

“You’ve thought that, have you?”

“Yes. Gerry would never have taken things to make
him sleep.” She gave the little ghost of alaugh. “He
slept much too well to need them. I always thought
it queer. And de thought so too—I know he did.”

“Whore”

“Ronny. And now this happens. Now he’s killed
too.” She paused and then went on: “That’s what I
came for to-day. That letter of Gerry’s you sent me—
as soon as_I read it, I tried to get hold of Ronny,
but they said he was away. SoI thought I’d come and
see Jimmy—he was Ronny’s other great friend. I
thought perhaps he’d tell me what I ought to do.”

“You mean—” Bundle paused. ‘About—Seven
Dials.”

Loraine nodded.

“You see—” she began.

But at that moment Jimmy Thesiger entered the
room.

CHAPTER VIII
VISITORS FOR JIMMY

WE must at this point go back to some twenty minutes
earlier. To a moment when Jimmy Thesiger, emerg-
ing from the mists of sleep, was conscious of a familiar
voice speaking unfamiliar words.

His sleep-ridden brain tried for a moment to cope
with the situation, but failed. He yawned and rolled
over again.

“A young lady, sir, has called to see you.”

The voice was implacable. So prepared was it to go
on repeating the statement indefinitely that Jimmy re-
signed himself to the inevitable. He opened his eyes
and blinked.

“Eh, Stevens?” he said. “Say that again.”

“A young lady, sir, has called to see you.”

“Oh!” Jimmy strove to grasp the situation.
“Why?”

“T couldn’t say, sir.”

“No, I suppose not. No,” he thought it over. “I
suppose you couldn’t.”

Stevens swooped down upon a tray by the bedside.

“T will bring you some fresh tea, sir. This is cold.”

“You think that I ought to get up and—er—see th
lady?”

68

“.

VISITORS FOR JIMMY 69

Stevens made no reply, but he held his back very stiff
and Jimmy read the signs correctly.

“Oh! very well,” he said. “I suppose I’d better.
She didn’t give her name?”

“Noy sir.”

“H’m. She couldn’t be by any possible chance my
Aunt Jemima, could she? Because if so, I’m damned
if I’m going to get up.”

“The lady, sir, could not possibly be anyone’s aunt,
I should say, unless the youngest of a large family.”

“Aha,” said Jimmy. ‘Young and lovely. Is she—
what kind is she?”

“The young lady, sir, is most undoubtedly strictly
comme il faut, if I may use the expression.”

“You may use it,” said Jimmy graciously. ‘Your
French pronunciation, Stevens, if I may say so, is
very good. Much better than mine.”

“T am gratified to hear it, sir. I have lately been
taking a correspondence course in French.”

“Have you really? You're a wonderful chap,
Stevens.”

Stevens smiled in a superior fashion and left the
room. Jimmy lay trying to recall the names of any
young and lovely girls strictly comme il faut who might
be likely to come and call upon him.

_ Stevens re-entered with fresh tea, and as Jimmy
sipped it he felt a pleasurable curiosity.

“You’ve given her the paper and all that, I hope,
Stevens,”’ he said.

a aal

i

70 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY
“T supplied her with the Morning Post and Punch,

sir.”

A ring at the bell took him away. In a few minutes
he returned.

‘“‘Another-young lady, sir.”

“What?”

Jimmy clutched his head.

“Another young lady; she declines to give her name,
sir, but says her business is important.”

Jimmy stared at him.

“This is damned odd, Stevens. Damned odd. Look
here, what time did I come home last night?”

“Just upon five o’clock, sir.”

“And was I—er—how was I?”

“Just a little cheerful, sir—nothing more. Inclined
to sing ‘Rule Britannia.’ ”

“What an extraordinary thing,” said Jimmy. “ ‘Rule

_ Britannia,’ eh? I cannot imagine myself in a sober

state ever singing ‘Rule Britannia.’ Some latent pa-
triotism must have emerged under the stimulus of—
er—just a couple too many. I was celebrating at the
‘Mustard and Cress,’ I remember. Not nearly such an
innocent spot as it sounds, Stevens.” He paused. “I
was wondering—”

“Yes, sir?”

“T was wondering whether under the aforementioned
stimulus I had put an advertisement in a newspaper
asking for a nursery governess or something of that
sort.”

Stevens coughed.

%
VISITORS FOR JIMMY 71

“Two girls turning up. It looks odd. I shall eschew
the ‘Mustard and Cress’ in future. That’s a good word,
Stevens—eschew—I met it in a cross word the other
day and took a fancy to it.”

Whilst he was talking Jimmy was rapidly apparelling
himself. At the end of ten minutes he was ready
to face his unknown guests. As he opened the door
of his sitting-room the first person he saw was a dark,
slim girl who was totally unknown to him. She was
standing by the mantelpiece, leaning against it. Then
his glance went on to the big leather covered arm-chair,
and his heart missed a beat. Loraine!

It was she who rose and spoke first a little heveetaiy)

“You must be very surprised to see me. But I had
tocome. I’llexplaininaminute. This is Lady Eileen
Brent.”

“Bundle—that’s what I’m usually known as. You’ve
probably heard of me from Bill Eversleigh.”

“Oh! rather, of course I have,” said Jimmy, en-
deavouring to cope with the situation. “I say, do sit
down and let’s have a cocktail or something.”

But both girls declined.

“As a matter of fact,” continued Jimmy, “I’m only
just out of bed.”

“That’s what Bill said,” remarked Bundle. “I told
him I was coming round to see you, and he said you
wouldn’t be up.”

“Well, I’m up now,” said Jimmy ar eeat

“It’s about Gerry,” said Loraine. “And now about

Ronny—”

i

72 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“What do you mean by ‘and now about Ronny’?”

“‘He was shot yesterday.”

“What?” cried Jimmy.

Bundle told her story for the second time. Jimmy
listened like-a man in a dream.

“Old Ronny—shot,” he murmured. ‘What is this
damned business?”

He sat down on the edge of a chair, thinking for a
minute or two, and then spoke in a quiet, level voice.

“There’s something I think I ought to tell you.”

“Yes,” said Bundle encouragingly.

“Tt was on the day Gerry Wade died. On the way
over to break the news to you’’—he nodded at Loraine
—“in the car Ronny said something to me. That is to
say, he started to tell me something. There was some-
thing he wanted to tell me, and he began about it, and
then he said he was bound by a promise and couldn’t
go on.”

“Bound by a promise,” said Loraine thoughtfully.

“That’s what he said. Naturally I didn’t press him
after that. But he was odd—darned odd—all through.
I got the impression then that he suspected—well,
foul play. I thought he’d tell the doctor so. But no,
not even a hint. So I thought I’d been mistaken. And
afterwards, with the evidence and all—well, it seemed
such a very clear case. I thought my suspicions had
been all bosh.”

“But you think Ronny still suspected?” asked
Bundle.

Jimmy nodded.

VISITORS FOR JIMMY 73

“That’s what I think now. Why, none of us have
seen anything of him since. I believe he was playing
a lone hand—trying to find out the truth about Gerry’s
death, and what’s more, I believe he did find out.
That’s why the devils shot him. And then he tried
to send word to me, but could only get out those two
words,”

“Seven Dials,” said Bundle, and shivered a little.

“Seven Dials,” said Jimmy gravely. ‘“At any rate
we’ve got that to go on with.”

Bundle turned to Loraine.

“You were just going to tell me—” ,

“Oh! yes. First, about the letter.” She spoke to
Jimmy. “Gerry left a letter. Lady Eileen—”

“Bundle.”

“Bundle found it.”” She explained the circumstances
in a few words.

Jimmy listened, keenly interested. This was the first
he had heard of the letter. Loraine took it from her
bag and handed it to him. He read it, then looked
across at her. ,

“This is where you can help us. What was it Gerry
wanted you to forget?”

Loraine’s brows wrinkled a little in perplexity.

“Tt’s so hard to remember exactly now. I opened a
letter of Gerry’s by mistake. It was written on cheap
sort of paper, I remember, and very illiterate hand-
writing. It had some address in Seven Dials at the
head of it. I realized it wasn’t for me, so I put it back
in the envelope without reading it.”

Sey
5

74 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Sure?” asked Jimmy very gently.

Loraine laughed for the first time.

“T know what you think, and I admit that women
are curious. But, you see, this didn’t even look inter-
esting. It-was a kind of list of names and dates.”

“Names and dates,” said Jimmy thoughtfully.

“Gerry didn’t seem to mind much,” continued Lo-
raine. “He laughed. He asked me if I had ever heard
of the Mafia, and then said it would be queer if a so-
ciety like the Mafia started in England—but that that
kind of secret society didn’t take on much with English
people. ‘Our criminals,’ he said, ‘haven’t got a pic-
turesque imagination.’ ”

Jimmy pursed up his lips into a whistle.

“T’m beginning to see,” he said. “Seven Dials must
be the headquarters of some secret society. As he says
in his letter to you, he thought it rather a joke to start
with. But evidently it wasn’t a joke—he says as much.
And there’s something else: his anxiety that you should
forget what he’d told you. There can be only one
reason for that—if that society suspected that you had
any knowledge of its activity, you too would be in
danger. Gerald realized the peril, and he was terribly
anxious—for you.”

He stopped, then he went on quietly:

“T rather fancy that we’re all going to be in danger—
if we go on with this.”

“Tf—?” cried Bundle indignantly.

“I’m talking of you two. It’s different for me. I
was poor old Ronny’s pal.” He looked at Bundle.

VISITORS FOR JIMMY 75

“You’ve done your bit. You’ve delivered the message
he sent me. No; for God’s sake keep out of it, you
and Loraine.”

Bundle looked questioningly at the other girl. Her
own mind was definitely made up, but she gave no indi-
cation of it just then. She had no wish to push Loraine
Wade into a dangerous undertaking. But Loraine’s
small face was alight at once with indignation.

“You say that! Do you think for one minute I’d
be contented to keep out of it—when they killed Gerry
—my own dear Gerry, the best and dearest and kindest
brother any girl ever had. The only person belonging
to me I had in the whole world!”

Jimmy cleared his throat uncomfortably. Loraine,
he thought, was wonderful; simply wonderful.

“Look here,” he said awkwardly, “you mustn’t say
that. About being alone in the world—all that rot.
You’ve got lots of friends—only too glad to do what
they can. See what I mean?”

It is possible that Loraine did, for she suddenly
blushed, and to cover her confusion began to talk
nervously. .

“That’s settled,” she said. “I’m going to help.
Nobody’s going to stop me.”

“And so am I, of course,” said Bundle.

They both looked at Jimmy.

“Ves,” he said slowly. “Yes, quite so.” .

They looked at him inquiringly.

“T was just wondering,” said Jimmy, “how we were
going to begin.”

CHAPTER IX
PLANS

Jimmy’s words lifted the discussion at once into a more
practical sphere.

“All things considered,” he said, “we haven’t got
much to go on. In fact, just the words Seven Dials.
As a matter of fact I don’t even know exactly where
Seven Dials is. But, anyway, we can’t very well comb
out the whole of that district, house by house.”

“We could,” said Bundle.

“Well, perhaps we could eventually—though I’m not
so sure. I imagine it’s a well-populated area. But
it wouldn’t be very subtle.”

The word reminded him of the girl Socks and he
smiled.

“Then, of course, there’s the part of the country
where Ronny was shot. We could nose around there.
But the police are probably doing everything we could
do, and doing it much better.”

“What I like about you,” said Bundle sarcastically,
“is your cheerful and optimistic disposition.”

“Never mind her, Jimmy,” said Loraine softly. “Go
on.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” said Jimmy to Bundle. “All
the best sleuths approach a case this way, by eliminat-
ing unnecessary and unprofitable investigation. I’m
coming now to the third alternative—Gerald’s death.

76

PLANS 77

Now that we know it was murder—by the way, you do
both believe that, don’t you?” -

“Yes,” said Loraine.

“Yes,” said Bundle.

“Good. SodolI. Well, it seems to me that there we
do stand some faint chance. After all, if Gerry didn’t
take the chloral himself, someone must have got into
his room and put it there—dissolved it in the glass of
water, so that when he woke up he drank it off. And
of course left the empty box or bottle or whatever it
was. You agree with that?”

“Ye-es,” said Bundle slowly. ‘“But—”

“Wait. And that someone must have been in the
house at the time. It couldn’t very well have been
someone from outside.”

“No,” agreed Bundle, more readily this time.

“Very well. Now, that narrows down things con-
siderably. To begin with, I suppose a good many of
the servants are family ones—they’re your lot, I mean.”

“Yes,” said Bundle. “Practically all the staff stayed
when we let it. All the principal ones are there still—
of course there have been changes among the under
servants.”

“Exactly—that’s what I am getting at. You,’—he
addressed Bundle—‘“must go into all that. Find out
when new servants were engaged—what about footmen,
for instance?”

“One of the footmen is new. John, his name is.”

“Well, make inquiries about John. And about any
others who have only come recently.”

78 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“I suppose,” said Bundle slowly, “it must have
been a servant. It couldn’t have been one of the
guests?”

“T don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Who were there exactly?”

“Well, there were three girls—Nancy and Helen and
Socks—”

“Socks Daventry? I know her.”

‘May have been. Girl who was always saying things
were subtle.”

“That’s Socks all right. Subtle is one of her words.”

“And then there were Gerry Wade and me and Bill
Eversleigh and Ronny. And, of course, Sir Oswald and
Lady Coote. Oh! and Pongo.”

“Who’s Pongo?”

“Chap called Bateman—secretary to old Coote.
Solemn sort of cove but very conscientious. I was at
school with him.”

“There doesn’t seem anything very suspicious there,”
remarked Loraine.

“No, there doesn’t,” said Bundle. “As you say,
we'll have to look amongst the servants. By the way,
you don’t suppose that clock being thrown out of the
window had anything to do with it.”

“A clock thrown out of the window,” said Jimmy,
staring. It was the first he had heard of it.

“T can’t see how it can have anything to do with it,”
said Bundle. “But it’s odd somehow. There seems
no sense in it.”

“TI remember,” said Jimmy slowly. “I went in to—

PLANS 79°

to see poor old Gerry, and there were the clocks ranged
along the mantelpiece. I remember noticing there were
only seven—not eight.”

He gave a sudden shiver and explained himself
apologetically.

“Sorry. But somehow those clocks have always
given me the shivers. I dream of them sometimes. I’d
hate to go into that room in the dark and see them there
in a row.”

“You wouldn’t be able to see them if it was dark,”
said Bundle practically. ‘Not unless they had lumi-
nous dials—Oh!” She gave a sudden gasp and the
colour rushed into her cheeks. “Don’t yousee? Seven
Dials!’

The others looked at her doubtfully, but she insisted
with increasing vehemence.

“Tt must be. It can’t be a coincidence.”

There was a pause.

“You may be right,” said Jimmy Thesiger at last.
“Tt’s—it’s dashed odd.”

Bundle started questioning him eagerly.

“Who bought the clocks?”

“All of us.”

“Who thought of them?”

“All of us.”

. “Nonsense, somebody must have thought of them

first.”
“Tt didn’t happen that way. We were discussing
what we could do to get Gerry up, and Pongo said an
alarum clock, and somebody said one would be no good,

80 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

and somebody else—Bill Eversleigh, I think—said why
not get a dozen. And we all said good egg and hoofed
off to get them. We got one each and an extra one
for Pongo and one for Lady Coote—just out of the
generosity of our hearts. There was nothing premedi-
tated about it—it just happened.”

Bundle was silenced, but not convinced.

Jimmy proceeded to sum up methodically.

“T think we can say we're sure of certain facts.
There’s a secret society, with points of resemblance to
the Mafia, in existence. Gerry Wade came to know
about it. At first he treated it as rather a joke—as an
absurdity, shall we say. He couldn’t believe in its
being really dangerous. But later something happened
to convince him, and then he got the wind up in earnest.
I rather fancy he must have said something to Ronny
Devereux about it. Anyway, when he was put out of
the way, Ronny suspected, and he must have known
enough to get on the same track himself. The unfor-
tunate thing is that we’ve got to start quite from the
outer darkness. We haven’t got the knowledge the
other two had.”

“Perhaps that’s an advantage,” said Loraine coolly.
“They won’t suspect us and therefore they won’t be
trying to put us out of the way.”

“I wish I felt sure about that,” said Jimmy in a
worried voice. “You know, Loraine, old Gerry himself
wanted you to keep out of it. Don’t you think you
could—” ~

“No, I couldn’t,” said Loraine. “Don’t let’s start

PLANS 81

discussing that again. It’s only a waste of time.”

At the mention of the word time, Jimmy’s eyes rose
to the clock and he uttered an exclamation of astonish-
ment. He rose and opened the door.

“Stevens.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What about a spot of lunch, Stevens? Could it
be managed?”

“T anticipated that it would be required, sir. Mrs.
Stevens has made preparations accordingly.”

“That’s a wonderful man,” said Jimmy, as he re-
turned, heaving a sigh of relief. “Brain, you know.
Sheer brain. He takes correspondence courses. I
sometimes wonder if they’d do any good to me.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Loraine.

Stevens opened the door and proceeded to bring
in a most recherché meal. An omelette was followed
by quails and the very lightest things in soufflés.

“Why are men so happy when they’re single,” said
Loraine tragically. ‘Why are they so much better
looked after by other people than by us?”

“Oh! but that’s rot, you know,” said Jimmy. “I
mean, they’re not. How could they be. I often
think—”

He stammered and stopped. Loraine blushed again.

Suddenly Bundle let out a whoop and both the others
started violently.

“Tdiot,” said Bundle. “Imbecile. Me, I mean. I
knew there was something I’d forgotten.”

“What?”

82 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“You know Codders—George Lomax, I mean?”

“I’ve heard of him a good deal,” said Jimmy. “From
Bill and Ronny, you know.”

“Well, Codders is giving some sort of a dry party
next week—and he’s had a warning letter from Seven
Dials.”

“What?” cried Jimmy excitedly, leaning forward.
“You can’t mean it?”

“Yes, Ido. He told Father about it. Now what do
you think that points to?”

Jimmy leant back in his chair. He thought rapidly
and carefully. At last he spoke. His speech was brief
and to the point.

“Something’s going to happen at that party,” he said.

“That’s what I think,” said Bundle.

“Tt all fits in,’ said Jimmy almost dreamily.

He turned to Loraine.

“How old were you when the war was on?” he
asked unexpectedly.

“Nine—no, eight.”

“And Gerry, I suppose, was about twenty. Most
lads of twenty fought in the war. Gerry didn’t.”

“No,” said Loraine, after thinking a minute or
two. “No, Gerry wasn’t a soldier. I don’t know
why.”

“T can tell you why,” said Jimmy. “Or at least I
can make a very shrewd guess. He was out of England
from 1915 to 1918. I’ve taken the trouble to find that
out. And nobody seems to know exactly where he was.
I think he was in Germany.”

PLANS 83

The colour rose in Loraine’s cheeks. She looked
at Jimmy with admiration.

“How clever of you.”

“He spoke German well, didn’t he?”

“Oh! yes, like a native.”

“Tm sure I’m right. Listen, you two. Gerry Wade
was at the Foreign Office. He appeared to be the
same sort of amiable idiot—excuse the term, but you
know what I mean—as Bill Eversleigh and Ronny
Devereux. A purely ornamental excrescence. But in
reality he was something quite different. I think Gerry
Wade was the real thing. Our secret service is sup-
posed to be the best in the world. I think Gerry Wade
was pretty high up in that service. And that explains
everything! I remember saying idly that last evening
at Chimneys that Gerry couldn’t be quite such an
ass as he made himself out to be.”

“And if you’re right?” said Bundle, practical as ever.

“Then the thing’s bigger than we thought. This
Seven Dials business isn’t merely criminal—it’s inter-
national. One thing’s certain, somebody has got to be
at this house-party of Lomax’s.”

Bundle made a slight grimace.

“T know George well—but he doesn’t like me. He’d
never think of asking me to a serious gates All
the same, I might—”

She remained a moment lost in thought.

“Do you think J could work it through Bill?” asked
Jimmy. ‘“He’s bound to be there as Codders’s right

84 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

hand man. He might bring me along somehow or
other.”

“TI don’t see why not,” said Bundle. ‘You'll have
to prime Bill and make him say the right things. He’s
incapable of-thinking of them for himself.”

“What do you suggest?” asked Jimmy humbly.

“Oh! it’s quite easy. Bill describes you as a rich
young man—interested in politics, anxious to stand for
Parliament. George will fall at once. You know what
these political parties are: always looking for new, rich
young men. The richer Bill says you are, the easier it
will be to manage.”

“Short of being described as Rothschild, I don’t
mind,” said Jimmy.

“Then I think that’s practically settled. I’m dining
with Bill to-morrow night, and I’ll get a list of who is
to be there. That will be useful.”

“I’m sorry you can’t be there,” said Jimmy. “But
on the whole I think it’s all for the best.”

“Y’m not so sure I shan’t be there,” said Bundle.
“Codders hates me like poison—but there are other
ways.”

She became meditative.

“And what about me?” asked Loraine in a small,
meek voice.

“You’re not on in this act,” said Jimmy instantly.
“See? After all, we’ve got to have someone outside
to—er—”

“To what?” said Loraine.

PLANS 85

Jimmy decided not to pursue this tack. He appealed
to Bundle. -

“Look here,” he said. “Loraine must keep out of
this, mustn’t she?”

“T certainly think she’d better.”

“Next time,” said Jimmy kindly.

“And suppose there isn’t a next time,” said Loraine.

“Oh! there probably will be. Not a doubt of it.”

“T see. I’m just to go home and—wait.”

“That’s it,” said Jimmy, with every appearance of
relief. “I thought you’d understand.”

“You see,” explained Bundle, “three of us forcing
our way in might look rather suspicious. And you
would be particularly difficult. You do see that, don’t
you?”

“Oh! yes,” said Loraine.

“Then it’s settled—you do nothing,” said Jimmy.

“T do nothing,” said Loraine meekly.

Bundle looked at her in sudden suspicion. The tame-
ness with which Loraine was taking it seemed hardly
natural. Loraine looked at her. Her eyes were blue
and guileless. They met Bundle’s without a quiver
even of the lashes. Bundle was only partly satisfied.
She found the meekness of Loraine Wade highly
suspicious.

CHAPTER X
BUNDLE VISITS SCOTLAND YARD

Now it may be said at once that in the foregoing con-
versation each one of the three participants had, as it
were, held something in reserve. That “Nobody tells
everything” is a very true motto.

It may be questioned, for instance, if Loraine Wade
was perfectly sincere in her account of the motives
which had led her to seek out Jimmy Thesiger.

In the same way, Jimmy Thesiger himself had vari-
ous ideas and plans connected with the forthcoming
party at George Lomax’s which he had no intention
of revealing to—say, Bundle.

And Bundle herself had a fully-fledged plan which
she proposed to put into immediate execution and which
she had said nothing whatever about.

On leaving Jimmy Thesiger’s rooms, she drove to
Scotland Yard, where she asked to see Superintendent
Battle.

Superintendent Battle was rather a big man. He
worked almost entirely on cases of a delicate political
nature. On such a case he had come to Chimneys four
years ago, and Bundle was frankly trading on his re-
membering this fact.

After a short delay, she was taken along several cor-
ridors and into the Superintendent’s private room.

BUNDLE VISITS SCOTLAND YARD ~ 87

Battle was a stolid-looking man with a wooden face.
He looked supremely unintelligent and more like a com-
missionaire than a detective.

He was standing by the window when she entered,
gazing in an expressionless manner at some sparrows.

“Good-afternoon, Lady Eileen,” he said. “Sit down,
won’t you?”

“Thank you,” said Bundle. “I was afraid you
mightn’t remember me.”

“Always remember people,” said Battle. He added:
“Got to in my job.”

“Oh!” said Bundle, rather damped.

“And what can I do for you?” inquired the Superin-
tendent.

Bundle came straight to the point.

“T’ve always heard that you people at Scotland Yard
have lists of all secret societies and things like that that
are formed in London.”

‘We try to keep up to date,
Battle cautiously.

a I —— a great many of them aren’t ey
dangerous.” ‘4
“We've got a very good rule to go by,” said Battle.
“The more they talk, the less they'll do. You'd

be surprised how well that works out.”

“And I’ve heard that very often you let them go
on?”

Battle nodded.

“That’s so. Why shouldn’t a man call himself a
Brother of Liberty and meet twice a week in a cellar

9?

said Superintendent

88 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

and talk about rivers of blood—it won’t hurt either him
or us. And if there is trouble any time, we know
where to lay our hands on him.”

“But sometimes, I suppose,” said Bundle slowly, “a
society may be more dangerous than anyone
imagines?”

“Very unlikely,” said Battle.

“But it might happen,” persisted Bundle.

“Oh! it might,’ admitted the Superintendent.

There was a moment or two’s silence. Then Bundle
said quietly.

“Superintendent Battle, could you give me a list of
secret societies that have their headquarters in Seven
Dials?”

It was Superintendent Battle’s boast that he had
never been seen to display emotion. But Bundle
could have sworn that just for a moment his eyelids
flickered and he looked taken aback. Only for a mo-
ment, however. He was his usual wooden self as he
said:

“Strictly speaking, Lady Eileen, there’s no such place
as Seven Dials nowadays.”

“NT oP”?

“No. Most of it is pulled down and rebuilt. It
was rather a low quarter once, but it’s very respectable
and high class nowadays. Not at all a romantic spot
to poke about in for mysterious secret societies.”

“Oh!” said Bundle, rather nonplussed.

“But all the same I should very much like to know

BUNDLE VISITS SCOTLAND YARD 89

what put that neighbourhood into your head, Lady
Eileen?”

“Have I got to tell you?”

“Well, it saves trouble, doesn’t it? We know where
we are, so to speak?”

Bundle hesitated for a minute.

“There was a man shot yesterday,” she said slowly.
“T thought I had run over him—”

“Mr. Ronald Devereux?”

“You know about it, of course. Why has there been
nothing in the papers?”

“Do you really want to know that, Lady Eileen?”

“Yes, please.”

“Well, we just thought we should like to have a clear
twenty-four hours—see? It will be in the papers
to-morrow.”

“Oh!” Bundle studied him, puzzled.

What was hidden behind that immovable face. Did
he regard the shooting of Ronald Devereux as an
ordinary crime or as an extraordinary one.

“He mentioned Seven Dials when he was dying,”
said Bundle slowly.

“Thank you,” said Battle. “I'll make a note of
that.”

He wrote a few words on the blotting pad in front
of him.

Bundle started on another tack.

“Mr. Lomax, I understand, came to see you yester-
day about a threatening letter he had had.”

90 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“He did.”

“And that was written from Seven Dials?”

“Tt had Seven Dials written at the top of it, I
believe.”

Bundle felt as though she was battering hopelessly
on a locked door.

“Tf you'll let me advise you, Lady Eileen—”

“T know what you’re going to say.”

“T should go home and—well, think no more about
these matters.”

“Leave it to you, in fact?”

“Well,” said Superintendent Battle, “after all, we
are the professionals.”

“And I’m only an amateur? Yes, but you forget
one thing—I mayn’t have your knowledge and skill—
but I have one advantage over you. I can work in the
dark.”

She thought that the Superintendent seemed a little
taken aback, as though the force of her words struck
home.

“Of course,” said Bundle, “if you won’t give me a
list of secret societies—”

“Oh! I never said that. You shall have a list of the
whole lot.”

He went to the door, put his head through and
called out something, then came back to his chair.
Bundle, rather unreasonably, felt baffled. The ease
with which he acceded to her request seemed to her
suspicious. He was looking at her now in a placid
fashion.

—

ae

a

|
|

BUNDLE VISITS SCOTLAND YARD ox

“Do you remember the death of Mr. Gerald Wade?”
she asked abruptly. ;

“Down at your place, wasn’t it? Took an over-
draught of sleeping mixture.”

“His sister says he never took things to make him
sleep.”

“Ah!” said the Superintendent. ‘“You’d be surprised
what a lot of things there are that sisters don’t know.”

Bundle again felt baffled. She sat in silence till a
man came in with a typewritten sheet of paper, which
he handed to the Superintendent.

“Here you are,” said the latter when the other had
left the room. “The Blood Brothers of St. Sebastian.
The Wolf Hounds. The Comrades of Peace. The
Comrades Club. The Friends of Oppression. The
Children of Moscow. The Red Standard Bearers. The
Herrings. The Comrades of the Fallen—and half a
dozen more.”

He handed it to her with a distinct twinkle in his
eye.

“You give it to me,” said Bundle, “because you know
it’s not going to be the slightest use to me. Do you
want me to leave the whole thing alone?”

“T should prefer it,” said Battle. “You see—if you
go messing round all these places—well, it’s going to
give us a lot of trouble.”

“Looking after me, you mean?”

“Looking after you, Lady Eileen.”

Bundle had risen to her feet. Now she stood unde-
cided. So far the honours lay with Superintendent

92 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Battle. Then she remembered one slight incident, and
she based a last appeal upon it.

“TI said just now that an amateur could do some
things which a professional couldn’t. You didn’t con-
tradict me... That’s because you’re an honest man,
Superintendent Battle. You knew I was right.”

“Go on,” said Battle quietly.

“At Chimneys you let me help. Won’t you let me
help now?”

Battle seemed to be turning the thing over in his
mind. Emboldened by his silence, Bundle continued.

“You know pretty well what I’m like, Superintendent
Battle. I butt into things. I’m a Nosey Parker. I
don’t want to get in your way or to try and do things
that you’re doing and can do a great deal better. But
if there’s a chance for an amateur, let me have it.”

Again there was a pause, and then Superintendent
Battle said quietly:
“You couldn’t have spoken fairer than you have

done, Lady Eileen. But I’m just going to say this
to you. What you propose is dangerous. And when I
say dangerous, I mean dangerous.”

“T’ve grasped that,” said Bundle. “I’m not a fool.”

“No,” said Superintendent Battle. “Never knew a
young lady who was less so. What I'll do for you,
Lady Eileen, is this. I'll just give you one little hint.
And I’m doing it because I never have thought much
of the motto ‘Safety First” In my opinion half the
people who spend their lives avoiding being run over

ee

‘BUNDLE VISITS SCOTLAND YARD 93

by buses had much better be run over and put safely
out of the way. They’re no good.”

This remarkable utterance issuing from the conven-
tional lips of Superintendent Battle quite took Bundle’s
breath away.

“What was the hint you were going to give me?” she
asked at last.

“You know Mr. Eversleigh, don’t you?”

“Know Bill? Why, of course. But what—”

“Tf think Mr. Bill Eversleigh will be able to tell you
all you want to know about Seven Dials.”

“Bill knows about it? Bill?”

“T didn’t say that. Not at all. But I think, bene a
quick-witted young lady, you'll get what you want
from him.

“And now,” said Superintendent Battle firmly, “I’m
not going to say another word.”

CHAPTER XI
DINNER WITH BILL

BUNDLE set out to keep her appointment with Bill on
the following evening full of expectation.

Bill greeted her with every sign of elation.

“Bill really is rather nice,” thought Bundle to her-
self. ‘Just like a large, clumsy dog that wags its tail
when it’s pleased to see you.”

The large dog was uttering short staccato yelps of
comment and information.

“You look tremendously fit, Bundle. I can’t tell
you how pleased I am to see you. I’ve ordered oysters
—you do like oysters, don’t you? And how’s every-
thing? What did you want to go mouldering about
abroad so long? Were you having a very gay time?”

“No, deadly,” said Bundle. ‘Perfectly foul. Old
diseased colonels creeping about in the sun, and active,
wizened spinsters running libraries and churches.”

“Give me England,” said Bill. “I bar this foreign
business—except Switzerland. Switzerland’s all right.
I’m thinking of going this Christmas. Why don’t you
come along?”

“T’ll think of it,” said Bundle. “What have you been
doing with yourself lately, Bill?”

It was an incautious query. Bundle had merely
made it out of politeness and as a preliminary to intro-

94

DINNER WITH BILL 95

ducing her own topics of conversation. It was, how-
ever, the opening for which Bill had been waiting.

“That’s just what I’ve been wanting to tell you
about. You’re brainy, Bundle, and I want your advice.
You know that musical show, ‘Damn Your Eyes’?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you about one of the dirtiest
pieces of work imaginable. My God! the theatrical
crowd. There’s a girl—a Yankee girl—a perfect
stunner—”

Bundle’s heart sank. The grievances of Bill’s lady
friends were always interminable—they went on and
on and there was no stemming them.

“This girl, Babe St. Maur her name is—”

“T wonder how she got that name?” said Bundle
sarcastically.

Bill replied literally.

“She got it out of Who’s Who. Opened it and
jabbed her finger down on a page without looking.
Pretty nifty, eh? Her real name’s Goldschmidt or
Abrameier—something quite impossible.”

“Oh! quite,” agreed Bundle.

“Well, Babe St. Maur is pretty smart. And she’s
got muscles. She was one of the eight girls who made
the living bridge—”

“Bill,” said Bundle desperately, “I went to see
Jimmy Thesiger yesterday morning.” ,

“Good old Jimmy,” said Bill. “Well, as I was telling
you, Babe’s pretty smart. You’ve got to be nowadays.
She can put it over on most theatrical people. If you

96 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

want to live, be high-handed, that’s what Babe says.
And mind you, she’s the goods all right. She can act—
it’s marvellous how that girl can act. She’d not much
chance in ‘Damn Your Eyes’—just swamped in a pack
of good-looking girls. I said why not try the legitimate
stage—you know, Mrs. Tanqueray—that sort of stuff
—but Babe just laughed—”

“Have you seen Jimmy at all?”

“Saw him this morning. Let me see, where was I?
Oh, yes, I hadn’t got to the rumpus yet. And mind
you it was jealousy—sheer, spiteful jealousy. The
other girl wasn’t a patch on Babe for looks and she
knew it. So she went behind her back—”

Bundle resigned herself to the inevitable and heard
the whole story of the unfortunate circumstances which
had led up to Babe St. Maur’s summary disappearance
from the cast of “Damn Your Eyes.” It took a long
time. When Bill finally paused for breath and sym-
pathy, Bundle said:

“You’re quite right, Bill, it’s a rotten shame. There
must be a lot of jealousy about—”

“The whole theatrical world’s rotten with it.”

“Tt must be. Did Jimmy say anything to you about
coming down to the Abbey next week?”

For the first time, Bill gave his attention to what
Bundle was saying.

“He was full of a long rigmarole he wanted me to
stuff Codders with. About wanting to stand in the
Conservative interest. But you know, Bundle, it’s too
damned risky.”

DINNER WITH BILL 97

“Stuff,” said Bundle. “If George does find him out,
he won’t blame you. You'll just have been taken in,
that’s all.”

“That’s not it at all,” said Bill. “I mean it’s too
damned risky for Jimmy. Before he knows where he
is, he’ll be parked down somewhere like Tooting West,
pledged to kiss babies and make speeches. You don’t
know how thorough Codders is and how frightfully
energetic.”

“Well, we'll have to risk that,” said Bundle.
“Jimmy can take care of himself all right.”

“You don’t know Codders,” repeated Bill. ¢

“‘Who’s coming to this party, Bill? Is it anything
very special?”

“Only the usual sort of muck. Mrs. Macatta for
one.”

“The M.P.?”

“Yes, you know, always going off the deep end about
Welfare and Pure Milk and Save the Children. Think
of poor Jimmy being talked to by her.”

“Never mind Jimmy. Go on telling me.”

“Then there’s a Hungarian, what they call a Young
Hungarian. Countess something unpronounceable.
She’s all right.”

He swallowed as though embarrassed and Bundle
observed that he was crumbling his bread nervously.

“Young and beautiful?” she inquired delicately.

“Oh! rather.”

“T didn’t know George went in for female beauty

much.”

98 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Oh! he doesn’t. She runs baby feeding in Buda
Pesth—something like that. Naturally she and Mrs.
Macatta want to get together.”

“Who else?”

“Sir Stanley Digby—”

“The Air Minister?”

“Ves. And his secretary, Terence O’Rourke. He’s
rather a lad, by the way—or used to be in his flying
days. Then there’s a perfectly poisonous German chap
called Herr Eberhard. I don’t know who he is, but
we're all making the hell of a fuss about him. I’ve
been twice told off to take him out to lunch, and I can
tell you, Bundle, it was no joke. He’s not like the
Embassy chaps, who are all very decent. This man
sucks in soup and eats peas with a knife. Not only
that, but the brute is always biting his finger-nails—
positively gnaws at them.”

“Pretty foul.”

“Isn’t it? I believe he invents things—something
of the kind. Well, that’s all. Oh! yes, Sir Oswald
Coote.”

“And Lady Coote?”

“Yes, I believe she’s coming too.”

Bundle sat lost in thought for some minutes. Bill’s
list was suggestive, but she hadn’t time to think out
various possibilities just now. She must get on to the
next point.

“Bill?” she said. “What’s all this about Seven
Dials?”

DINNER WITH BILL 99

Bill at once looked horribly iets He
blinked and avoided her glance.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“Nonsense,” said Bundle. “I was told you know all
about it.”

“About what?”

This was rather a poser. Bundle shifted her ground.

“T don’t see what you want to be so secretive for,”
she complained.

“Nothing to be secretive about. Nobody goes there
much now. It was only a craze.”

This sounded puzzling.

“One gets so out of things when one is away,” said
Bundle in a sad voice.

“Oh! you haven’t missed much,” said Bill. ‘Every-
one went there just to say they had been. It was
boring really, and, my God, you can get tired of fried
fish.”

‘Where did everyone go?”

“To the Seven Dials Club, of course,” said Bill, star-
ing. “Wasn’t that what you were asking about?”

“T didn’t know it by that name,” said Bundle.

“Used to be a slummy sort of district round about
Tottenham Court Road way. It’s all pulled down and
cleaned up now. But the Seven Dials Club keeps to the
old atmosphere. Fried fish and chips. General
squalor. Kind of East End stunt, but awfully handy
to get at after a show.”

“Tt’s a night club, I suppose,” said Bundle.
“Dancing and all that?”

100 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“That’s it. Awfully mixed crowd. Nota posh affair.
Artists, you know, and all sorts of odd women and a
sprinkling of our lot. They say quite a lot of things,
but I think that that’s all bunkum myself, just said to
make the place go.”

“Good,” said Bundle. ‘We'll go there to-night.”

“Oh! I shouldn’t do that,” said Bill. His embar-
rassment had returned. “I tell you it’s played out.
Nobody goes there now.”

“Well, we’re going.”

“You wouldn’t care for it, Bundle. You wouldn’t
really.”

“You're going to take me to the Seven Dials Club
and nowhere else, Bill. And I should like to know why
you are so unwilling?”

“T? Unwilling?”

“Painfully so. What’s the guilty secret?”

“Guilty secret?”

“Don’t keep repeating what I say. You do it to
give yourself time.”

“I don’t,” said Bill indignantly. “It’s only—”

“Well? I know there’s something. You never can
conceal anything.”

“T’ve got nothing to conceal. It’s only—”

“Well?”

“Tt’s a long story— You see, I took Babe St. Maur
there one night—”

“Oh! Babe St. Maur again.”

“Why not?”

DINNER WITH BILL IOI

“I didn’t know it was about her—” said Bundle,
stifling a yawn.

“As I say, I took Babe there. She rather fancied a
lobster. I had a lobster under my arm—”

The story went on— When the lobster had been
finally dismembered in a struggle between Bill and a
fellow who was a rank outsider, Bundle brought her
attention back to him.

“T see,” she said. ‘And there was a row?”

“Yes, but it was my lobster. I’d bought it and paid
for it. I had a perfect right—”

“Oh! you had, you had,” said Bundle hastily. “But
I’m sure that’s all forgotten now. And I don’t care
for lobsters anyway. So let’s go.”

“We may be raided by the police. There’s a room
upstairs where they play baccarat.”

‘“‘Father will have to come out and bail me out, that’s
all. Come on, Bill.”

Bill still seemed rather reluctant, but Bundle was
adamant, and they were soon speeding to their desti-
nation in a taxi.

The place, when they got to it, was much as she
imagined it would be. It was a tall house in a narrow
street, 14 Hunstanton Street; she noted the number.

A man whose face was strangely familiar opened the
door. She thought he started slightly when he saw
her, but he greeted Bill with respectful recognition.
He was a tall man, with fair hair, a rather weak,
anemic face and slightly shifty eyes. Bundle puzzled

102 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

to herself where she could have seen him before.

Bill had recovered his equilibrium now and quite
enjoyed doing showman. They danced in the cellar,
which was very full of smoke—so much so that you
saw everyone through a blue haze. The smell of
fried fish was almost overpowering.

On the wall, were rough charcoal sketches, some of
them executed with real talent. The company was
extremely mixed. There were portly foreigners, opu-
lent Jewesses, a sprinkling of the really smart, and
several ladies belonging to the oldest profession in the
world.

Soon Bill led Bundle upstairs. There the weak-faced
man was on guard, watching all those admitted to the
gambling room with a lynx eye. Suddenly recognition
came to Bundle.

“Of course,” she said. “How stupid of me. It’s
Alfred, who used to be second footman at Chimneys.
How are you, Alfred?”

“Nicely, thank you, your ladyship.”

“When did-you leave Chimneys, Alfred? Was it
long before we got back?”

“It was about a month ago, m’lady. I got a chance
of bettering myself, and it seemed a pity not to take
| i

“T suppose they pay you very well here,” remarked
Bundle.

“Very fair, m’lady.”

Bundle passed in. It seemed to her that in this room
the real life of the club was exposed. The stakes were

EE EE Eee eeeeeEEeEEeEEeEeEOeEeEeEEeEeeOEEEE—eeeeeeeeeeerer

DINNER WITH BILL 103

high, she saw that at once, and the people gathered
round the two tables were of the true type—hawk-
eyed, haggard, with the gambling fever in their blood.

She and Bill stayed there for about half an hour.
Then Bill grew restive.

“Let’s get out of this place, Bundle, and go on
dancing.”

Bundle agreed. There was nothing to be seen here.
They went down again. They danced for another half
hour, had fish and chips, and then Bundle declared
herself ready to go home.

“But it’s so early,” Bill protested.

“No, it isn’t. Not really. And, anyway, I’ve got a
long day in front of me to-morrow.”

“What are you going to do?”

“That depends,” said Bundle mysteriously. “But I
can tell you this, Bill, the grass is not going to grow
under my feet.”

“Tt never does,” said Mr. Eversleigh.

CHAPTER XII
INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS

BuNDLE’s temperament was certainly not inherited
from her father, whose prevailing characteristic was a
wholly amiable inertia. As Bill Eversleigh had very
justly remarked, the grass never did grow under Bun-
dle’s feet.

On the morning following her dinner with Bill,
Bundle woke full of energy. She had three distinct
plans which she meant to put into operation that day,
and she realized that she was going to be slightly ham-
pered by the limits of time and space.

Fortunately she did not suffer from the affliction of
Gerry Wade, Ronny Devereux and Jimmy Thesiger—
that of not being able to get up in the morning. Sir
Oswald Coote himself would have had no fault to find
with her on the score of early ‘rising. At half-past
eight Bundle had breakfasted and was on her way to
Chimneys in the Hispano.

Her father seemed mildly pleased to see her.

“T never know when you’re going to turn up,” he
said. “But this will save me ringing up, which I hate.
Colonel Melrose was here yesterday about the inquest.”

Colonel Melrose was Chief Constable of the county,
and an old friend of Lord Caterham. |

104

INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS 105

“You mean the inquest on Ronny Devereux? When
is it to be?” ;

“To-morrow. Twelve o’clock. Melrose will call for
you. Having found the body, you’ll have to give evi-
dence, but he said you needn’t be at all alarmed.”

“Why on earth should I be alarmed?”

“Well, you know,” said Lord Caterham apologeti-
cally, “Melrose is a bit old-fashioned.”

“Twelve o’clock,” said Bundle. “Good. I shall be
here, if I’m still alive.”

“Have you any reason to anticipate not being alive?”

“One never knows,” said Bundle. ‘The strain of
modern life—as the newspapers say.”

“Which reminds me that George Lomax asked me to
come over to the Abbey next week. I refused, of
course.”

“Quite right,” said Bundle. ‘We don’t want you
mixed up in any funny business.”

“Ts there going to be any funny business?” asked
Lord Caterham with a sudden awakening of interest.

“‘Well—warning letters and all that, you know,” said
Bundle.

“Perhaps George is going to be assassinated,” said
Lord Caterham hopefully. “What do you think, Bun-
dle—perhaps I’d better go after all.”

“You curb your bloodthirsty instincts and stay
quietly at home,” said Bundle. “I’m going to talk to
Mrs. Howell.”

Mrs. Howell was the housekeeper, that dignified,
creaking lady who had struck such terror to the heart

106 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

of Lady Coote. She had no terrors for Bundle, whom,
indeed, she always called Miss Bundle, a relic of the
days when Bundle had stayed at Chimneys, a long-
legged, impish child, before her father had succeeded
to the title.

“Now, Howelly,” said Bundle, “let’s have a cup
of rich cocoa together, and let me hear all the house-
hold news.”

She gleaned what she wanted without much diffi-
culty, making mental notes as follows:

“Two new scullery maids—village girls—doesn’t
seem much there. New third housemaid—head house-
maid’s niece. That sounds all right. Howelly seems
to have bullied poor Lady Coote a good deal. She
would.”

“T never thought the day would come when I should
see Chimneys inhabited by strangers, Miss Bundle.”

“Oh! one must go with the times,” said Bundle.
“You'll be lucky, Howelly, if you never see it converted
into desirable flats with use of superb pleasure
grounds.”

Mrs. Howell shivered all down her reactionary aris-
tocratic spine.

“T’ve never seen Sir Oswald Coote,” remarked
Bundle.

“Sir Oswald is no doubt a very clever gentleman,”
said Mrs. Howell distantly.

Bundle gathered that Sir Oswald had not been liked
by his staff.

“Of course, it was Mr. Bateman who saw to every-

~

4

INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS 107

thing,” continued the housekeeper. “A very efficient
gentleman. A very efficient gentleman indeed, and one
who knew the way things ought to be done.”

Bundle led the talk on to the topic of Gerald Wade’s
death. Mrs. Howell was only too willing to talk about
it, and was full of pitying ejaculations about the poor
young gentleman, but Bundle gleaned nothing new.
Presently she took leave of Mrs. Howell and came
downstairs again, where she promptly rang for Tred-
well.

“Tredwell, when did Alfred leave?”

“Tt would be about a month ago now, my lady.”

“Why did he leave?”

“Tt was by his own wish, my lady. I believe he has
gone to London. I was not dissatisfied with him in any
way. I think you will find the new footman, John,
very satisfactory. He seems to know his work and to
be most anxious to give satisfaction.”

“Where did he come from?”

“He had excellent references, my lady. He had lived
last with Lord Mount Vernon.”

“T see,” said Bundle thoughtfully.

She was remembering that Lord Mount Vernon was
at present on a shooting trip in East Africa.

“What’s his last name, Tredwell?”

“Bower, my lady.”

Tredwell paused for a minute or two and én, seeing
that Bundle had finished, he quietly left the room.
Bundle remained lost in thought.

John had opened the door to her on her arrival that

108 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

day, and she had taken particular notice of him with-
out seeming to do so. Apparently, he was the perfect
servant, well trained, with an expressionless face. He
had, perhaps, a more soldierly bearing than most foot-
men and there was something a little odd about the
shape of the back of his head.

But these details, as Bundle realized, were hardly
relevant to the situation. She sat frowning down at the
blotting paper in front of her. She had a pencil in her
hand and was idly tracing the name Bower over and
over again.

Suddenly an idea struck her and she stopped dead,
staring at the word. Then she summoned Tredwell
once more.

“Tredwell, how is the name Bower spelt?”

“B-A-U-E-R, my lady.”

“That’s not an English name.”

“T believe he is of Swiss extraction, my lady.”

“Oh! That’s all, Tredwell, thank you.”

Swiss extraction? No. German! That martial
carriage, that flat back to the head. And he had come
to Chimneys a fortnight before Gerry Wade’s death.

Bundle rose to her feet. She had done all she could
here. Now to get on with things! She went in search
of her father.

“T’m off again,” she said. “I’ve got to go and see
Aunt Marcia.”

“Got to see Marcia?” Lord Caterham’s voice was
full of astonishment. “Poor child, how did you get
let in for that?”

INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS 109

“Just for once,” said Bundle, “I ae to be going
of my own free will.”

Lord Caterham looked at her in amazement. That
anyone could have a genuine desire to face his re-
doubtable sister-in-law was quite incomprehensible to
him. Marcia, Marchioness of Caterham, the widow of
his late brother Henry, was a very prominent personal-
ity. Lord Caterham admitted that she had made
Henry an admirable wife and that but for her in all
probability he would never have held the office of Sec-
retary of State for Foreign Affairs. On the other hand,
he had always looked upon Henry’s early death as a
merciful release.

It seemed to him that Bundle was foolishly putting
her head into the lion’s mouth.

“Oh! I say,” he said. “You know, I shouldn’t do
that. You don’t know what it may lead to.”

“T know what I hope it’s going to lead to,’ said
Bundle. “I’m all right, Father, don’t you worry about
me.”

Lord Caterham sighed and settled himself more com-
fortably in his chair. He went back to his perusal of
the Field. But in a minute or two Bundle suddenly put
her head in again.

“Sorry,” she said. “But there’s one other thing I

wanted to ask you. What is Sir Oswald seal

“T told you—a steam-roller.”

“T don’t mean your personal impression of him.
How did he make his money—trouser buttons or brass
beds or what?”

110 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Oh! I see. He’s steel. Steel and iron. He’s got
the biggest steel works, or whatever you call it, in Eng-
land. He doesn’t, of course, run the show personally
now. It’s a company or companies. He got me inas a
director of something or other. Very good business for
me—nothing to do except go down to the city once or
twice a year to one of those hotel places—Cannon
Street or Liverpool Street—and sit round a table where
they have very nice new blotting paper. Then Coote
or some clever Johnny makes a speech simply bristling
with figures, but fortunately you needn’t listen to it—
and I can tell you, you often get a jolly good lunch
out of it.”

Uninterested in Lord Caterham’s lunches, Bundle
had departed again before he had finished speaking.
On the way back to London, she tried to piece together
things to her satisfaction.

As far as she could see, steel and infant welfare did
not go together. One of the two, then, was just pad-
ding—presumably the latter. Mrs. Macatta and the
Hungarian countess could be ruled out of court. They
were camouflage. No, the pivot of the whole thing
seemed to be the unattractive Herr Eberhard. He did
not seem to be the type of man whom George Lomax
would normally invite. Bill had said vaguely that he
invented. Then there was the Air Minister and Sir
Oswald Coote, who was steel. Somehow that seemed
to hang together.

Since it was useless speculating further, Bundle

Le

INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS III

abandoned the attempt and concentrated on her forth-
coming interview with Lady Caterham.

The lady lived in a large gloomy house in one of
London’s higher class squares. Inside it smelt of seal-
ing wax, bird seed and slightly decayed flowers. Lady
Caterham was a large woman—large in every way.
Her proportions were majestic, rather than ample. She
had a large beaked nose, wore gold rimmed pince-nez
and her upper lip bore just the faintest suspicion of a
moustache,

She was somewhat surprised to see her niece, but
accorded her a frigid cheek, which Bundle duly kissed.

“This is quite an unexpected pleasure, Eileen,” she
observed coldly.

“We've only just got back, Aunt Marcia.”

“T know. How is your father? Much as usual?”

Her tone conveyed disparagement. She had a poor
opinion of Alastair Edward Brent, ninth Marquis of
Caterham. She would have called him, had she known
the term, a “poor fish.”

“Father is very well.. He’s down at Chimneys.”

“Indeed. You know, Eileen, I never approved of
the letting of Chimneys. The place is in many ways, a
historical monument. It should not be cheapened.”

“Tt must have been wonderful in Uncle Henry’s
day,” said Bundle with a slight sigh.

“Henry realized his responsibilities,” said Henry’s
widow.

“Think of the people who stayed there,” went on

112 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Bundle ecstatically. ‘All the principal statesmen of
Europe.”

Lady Caterham sighed.

“T can truly say that history has been made there
more than once,” she observed. “If only your
father—”

She shook her head sadly.

“Politics bore Father,” said Bundle, “and yet they
are about the most fascinating study there is, I should
say. Especially if one knew about them from the
inside.”

She made this extravagantly untruthful statement of
her feelings without even a blush. Her aunt looked
at her with some surprise.

“T am pleased to hear you say so,” she said. “I
always imagined, Eileen, that you cared for nothing
but this modern pursuit of pleasure.”

“T used to,” said Bundle.

“Tt is true that you are still very young,” said Lady
Caterham thoughtfully. “But with your advantages,
and if you were to marry suitably, you might be one of
the leading political hostesses of the day.”

Bundle felt slightly alarmed. For a moment she
feared that her aunt might produce a suitable husband
straight away.

“But I feel such a fool,” said Bundle. “I mean I
know so little.”

“That can easily be remedied,” said Lady Caterham
briskly, “I have any amount of literature I can lend
you.” ;

INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS 13

“Thank you, Aunt Marcia,” said Bundle, and pro-
ceeded hastily to her second line of attack.

“I wondered if you knew Mrs. Macatta, Aunt
Marcia?”

“Certainly I know her. A most estimable woman
with a brilliant brain. I may say that as a general
rule I do not hold with women standing for Parliament.
They can make their influence felt in a more womanly
fashion.” She paused, doubtless to recall the womanly
way in which she had forced a reluctant husband into
the political arena and the marvellous success which
had crowned his and her efforts. “But still, times
change. And the work Mrs. Macatta is doing is of
truly national importance, and of the utmost value to
all women. It is, I think I may say, true womanly
work. You must certainly meet Mrs. Macatta.”

Bundle gave a rather dismal sigh.

“She’s going to be at a house-party at George Lo-
max’s next week. He asked Father, who, of course,
won’t go, but he never thought of asking me. Thinks
I’m too much of an idiot, I suppose.”

It occurred to Lady Caterham that her niece was
really wonderfully improved. Had she, perhaps, had
an unfortunate love affair? An unfortunate love affair,
in Lady Caterham’s opinion, was often highly beneficial
to young girls. It made them take life seriously.

“J don’t suppose George Lomax realizes for a mo-
ment that you have—shall we say, grown up? Eileen,
dear,” she said, “I must have a few words with him.”

114 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY >

“He doesn’t like me,’ said Bundle. “I know he
won’t ask me.”

“Nonsense,” said Lady Caterham. “I shall make a
point of it. I knew George Lomax when he was sa
high.” She indicated a quite impossible height. “He
will be only too pleased to do me a favour. And he
will be sure to see for himself that it is vitally impor-
tant that the present day young girls of our own class
should take an intelligent interest in the welfare of
their country.”

Bundle nearly said: “Hear, hear,” but checked her-
self.

“T will find you some literature now,” said Lady
Caterham, rising.

She called in a piercing voice, ‘““Miss Connor.”

A very neat secretary with a frightened expression
came running. Lady Caterham gave her various direc-
tions. Presently Bundle was driving back to Brook
Street with an armful of the driest looking literature
imaginable.

Her next proceeding was to ring up Jimmy Thesiger.
His first words were full of triumph.

“T’ve managed it,” he said. “Had a lot of trouble
with Bill, though. He’d got it into his thick head that
I should be a lamb among the wolves. But I made him
see sense at last. I’ve got a lot of thingummy bobs
now and I’m studying them. You know, blue books
and white papers. Deadly dull—but one must do the
thing properly. Have you ever heard of the Santa Fé
boundary dispute?” rc

INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS 115

“Never,” said Bundle.

“Well, I’m taking special pains with that. It went
on for years and was very complicated. I’m making it
my subject. Nowadays one has to specialize.”

“Tve got a lot of the same sort of things,” said
Bundle. ‘Aunt Marcia gave them to me.”

“Aunt who?”

“Aunt Marcia—Father’s sister-in-law. She’s very
political. In fact, she’s going to get me invited to
George’s party.”

“No? Oh, I say, that will be splendid.” There was
a pause and then Jimmy said:

“IT say, I don’t think we’d better tell Loraine that—
eh?”

“Perhaps not.”

“You see, she mayn’t like being out of it. And she
really must be kept out of it.”

KV ecu?

“TI mean you can’t let a girl like that run into
danger!”

Bundle reflected that Mr. Thesiger was slightly de-
ficient in tact. The prospect of er running into danger
did not seem to give him any qualms whatever.

“Have you gone away?” asked Jimmy.

“No, I was only thinking.”

“T see. I say, are you going to the inquest to-
morrow?” ,

“Yes; are you?”

“Ves. By the way, it’s in the evening papers. But
tucked away in a corner. Funny—I should have

116 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

thought they’d have made rather a splash about it.”

““Yes—so should I.”

“Well,” said Jimmy, “I must be getting on with
my task. I’ve just got to where Bolivia sent us a
Note.”

“T suppose I must get on with my little lot,” said
Bundle. “Are you going to swot at it all the evening?”

“T think so. Are you?”

“Oh, probably. Good-night.”

They were both liars of the most unblushing order.
Jimmy Thesiger knew perfectly well that he was taking
Loraine Wade out to dinner.

As for Bundle, no sooner had she rung off than she
attired herself in various nondescript garments be-
longing, as a matter of fact, to her maid. And having
donned them, she sallied out on foot deliberating
whether bus or tube would be the best route by which
to reach the Seven Dials Club.

CHAPTER XIII
THE SEVEN DIALS CLUB

BUNDLE reached 14 Hunstanton Street about 6 p.m.
At that hour, as she rightly judged, the Seven Dials
Club was a dead spot. Bundle’s aim was a simple one.
She intended to get hold of the ex-footman Alfred. She
was convinced that once she had got hold of him the
rest would be easy. Bundle had a simple autocratic
method of dealing with retainers. It seldom failed,
and she saw no reason why it should fail now.

The only thing of which she was not certain was how
many people inhabited the club premises. Naturally
she wished to disclose her presence to as few people
as possible.

Whilst she was hesitating as to her best line of
attack, the problem was solved for her in a singularly
easy fashion. The door of No. 14 opened and Alfred
himself came out.

“Good afternoon, Alfred,” said Bundle pleasantly.

Alfred jumped.

“Oh! good afternoon, your ladyship. I—TI didn’t
recognize your ladyship just for a moment.”

Paying a tribute in her own mind to her maid’s cloth-
ing, Bundle proceeded to business.

“J want a few words with you, Alfred? Where shall
we go?” ’

117

118 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Well—really, my lady—I don’t know—it’s not
what you might call a nice part round here—I don’t
know, I’m sure—”

Bundle cut him short.

“‘Who’s in the club?”

“No one at present, my lady.”

“Then we'll go in there.”

Alfred produced a key and opened the door. Bundle
passed in. Alfred, troubled and sheepish, followed her.
Bundle sat down and looked straight at the uncom-
fortable Alfred.

“T suppose you know,” she said crisply, “that what
you’re doing here is dead against the law?”

Alfred shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the
other.

“Tt’s true as we’ve been raided twice,” he admitted.
“But nothing compromising was found, owing to the
neatness of Mr. Mosgorovsky’s arrangements.”

“T’m not talking of the gambling only,” said Bundle.
“There’s more than that—probably a great deal more
than you know. I’m going to ask you a direct question,
Alfred, and I should like the truth, please. How much
were you paid for leaving Chimneys?”

Alfred looked twice round the cornice as though
seeking for inspirations, swallowed three or four times,
and then took the inevitable course of a weak will op-
posed to a strong one.

“It was this way, your ladyship. Mr. Mosgorovsky,
he come with a party to visit Chimneys on one of the
show days. Mr. Tredwell, he was indisposed like—an

THE SEVEN DIALS CLUB 119

ingrowing toe-nail as a matter of fact—so it fell to me
to show the parties over. At the end of the tour, Mr.
Mosgorovsky, he stays behind the rest, and after giv-
ing me something handsome, he falls into conversation.”

“Yes,” said Bundle encouragingly.

“And the long and the short of it was,” said Alfred,
with a sudden acceleration of his narrative, “that he
offers me a hundred pound down to leave that instant
minute and to look after this here club. He wanted
someone as was used to the best families—to give the
place a tone, as he put it. And, well, it seemed flying
in the face of providence to refuse—let alone that the
wages I get here are just three times what they were
as second footman.”

“A hundred pounds,” said Bundle. “That’s a very
large sum, Alfred. Did they say anything about who
was to fill your place at Chimneys?”

“JT demurred a bit, my lady, about leaving at once.
As I pointed out, it wasn’t usual and might cause in-
convenience. But Mr. Mosgorovsky he knew of a
young chap—been in good service and ready to come
any minute. So I mentioned his name to Mr. Tredwell
and everything was settled pleasant like.”

Bundle nodded. Her own suspicions had been cor-
rect and the modus operandi was much as she had
thought it to be. She essayed a further inquiry.

“Who is Mr. Mosgorovsky?”

“Gentleman as runs this club. Russian gentleman.
A very clever gentleman too.”

120 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Bundle abandoned the getting of information for
the moment and proceeded to other matters.

“A hundred pounds is a very large sum of money,
Alfred.”

“Larger than I ever handled, my lady,” said Alfred
with simple candour.

“Did you never suspect that there was something
wrong?”

“Wrong, my lady?”

“Yes. I’m not talking about the gambling. I mean
something far more serious. You don’t want to be sent
to penal servitude, do you, Alfred?”

“Oh, Lord, my lady, you don’t mean it?”

“T was at Scotland Yard the day before yesterday,”
said Bundle impressively. ‘I heard some very curious
things. I want you to help me, Alfred, and if you do,
well—if things go wrong, I’ll put in a good word for
you.”

“Anything I can do, I shall be only too pleased, my
lady. I mean, I would anyway.”

“Well, first,” said Bundle, “I want to go all over this
place—from top to bottom.”

Accompanied by a mystified and scared Alfred, she
made a very thorough tour of inspection. Nothing
struck her eye till she came to the gaming room. There
she noticed an inconspicuous door in a corner, and the
door was locked.

Alfred explained readily.

“That’s used as a getaway, your ladyship. There’s
a room and a door on to a staircase what comes out in

THE SEVEN DIALS CLUB 121

the next street. That’s the way the gentry goes when
there’s a raid.”

“But don’t the police know about it?” ~

“Tt’s a cunning door, you see, my lady. Looks like
a cupboard, that’s all.”

Bundle felt a rising excitement.

“T must get in here,” she said.

Alfred shook his head.

“You can’t, my lady; Mr. Mosgorovsky, he has the
key.”

“Well,” said Bundle, “there are other keys.”

She perceived that the lock was a perfectly ordinary
one which probably could be easily unlocked by the
key of one of the other doors. Alfred, rather troubled,
was sent to collect likely specimens. The fourth that
Bundle tried fitted. She turned it, opened the door
and passed through.

She found herself in a small, dingy apartment. A
long table occupied the centre of the room with chairs.
ranged round it. There was no other furniture in the
room. Two built-in cupboards stood on either side of
the fireplace. Alfred indicated the nearer one with a
nod.

“That’s it,” he explained.

Bundle tried the cupboard door, but it was locked,
and she saw at once that this lock was a very different
affair. It was of the patent kind that would only yield
to its own key.

“ TIghly ingenious, it is,” explained Alfred. “It looks
all right when opened. Shelves, you know, with a few

122 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

ledgers and that on ’em. Nobody’d ever suspect, but
you touch the right spot and the whole thing. swings
open.”

Bundle had turned round and was surveying the
room thoughtfully. The first thing she noticed was
that the door by which they had entered was carefully
fitted round with baize. It must be completely sound-
proof. Then her eyes wandered to the chairs. There
were seven of them, three each side and one rather
more imposing in design at the head of the table.

Bundle’s eyes brightened. She had found what she
was looking for. This, she felt sure, was the meeting
place of the secret organization. The place was almost
perfectly planned. It looked so innocent—you could
reach it just by stepping through from the gaming
room, or you could arrive there by the secret entrance
—and any secrecy, any precautions were easily ex-
plained by the gaming going on in the next room.

Idly, as these thoughts passed through her mind, she
drew a finger across the marble of the mantelpiece.
Alfred saw and misinterpreted the action.

“You won’t find no dirt, not to speak of,” he said.
“Mr. Mosgorovsky, he ordered the place to be swept
out this morning, and I did it while he waited.”

“Oh!” said Bundle, thinking very hard. “This
morning, eh?”

“Has to be done sometimes,” said Alfred. “Though
the room’s never what you might call used.”

Next minute he received a shock.

THE SEVEN DIALS CLUB 123

“Alfred,” said Bundle, “you’ve got to find me a
place in this room where I can hide.”

Alfred looked at her in dismay.

“But it’s impossible, my lady. You'll get me into
trouble and I’ll lose my job.”

“You'll lose it anyway when you go to prison,” said
Bundle unkindly. “But as a matter of fact, you
needn’t worry, nobody will know anything about it.”

“And there ain’t no place,” wailed Alfred. ‘Look
round for yourself, your ladyship, if you don’t believe
me.”

Bundle was forced to admit that there was something
in this argument. But she had the true spirit of one
undertaking adventures.

“Nonsense,” she said with determination. “There
has got to be a place.”

“But there ain’t one,” wailed Alfred.

Never had a room shown itself more unpropitious for
concealment. Dingy blinds were drawn down over the
dirty window panes, and there were no curtains. The
window sill outside, which Bundle examined, was about
four inches wide! Inside the room there were the
table, the chairs and the cupboards.

The second cupboard had a key in the lock. Bundle
went across and pulled it open. Inside were shelves
covered with an odd assortment of glasses and crockery.

“Surplus stuff as we don’t use,” explained Alfred.
“You can see for yourself, my lady, there’s no place
here as a cat could hide.”

124 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

But Bundle was examining the shelves.

“Flimsy work,” she said. ‘Now then, Alfred, have
you got a cupboard downstairs where you could shove
all this glass? You have? Good. Then get a tray
and start to carry it down at once. Hurry—there’s no
time to lose.”

“Vou can’t, my lady. And it’s getting late, too. The
cooks will be here any minute now.”

“Mr. Mosgo-what-not doesn’t come till later, I
suppose?”

“He’s never here much before midnight. But, oh,.
my lady—”

“Don’t talk so much, Alfred,” said Bundle. “Get
that tray. If you stay here arguing, you will get into
trouble.”

Doing what is familiarly known as “wringing his
hands,” Alfred departed. Presently he returned with
a tray, and having by now realized that his protests
were useless, he worked with a nervous energy quite
surprising.

As Bundle had seen, the shelves were easily detach-
able. She took them down, ranged them upright
against the wall, and then stepped in.

“H’m,” she remarked. “Pretty narrow. It’s going
to be a tight fit. Shut the door on me carefully, Alfred
—that’s right. Yes, it can be done. Now I want a
gimlet.”

“A gimlet, my lady?”

“That’s what I said.”

“T don’t know—”

THE SEVEN DIALS CLUB 125

“Nonsense, you must have a gimlet—perhaps you’ve
got an auger as well. If you haven’t got what I want,
you'll have to go out and buy it, so you’d better try
hard to find the right thing.”

Alfred departed and returned presently with quite a
creditable assortment of tools. Bundle seized what she
wanted and proceeded swiftly and efficiently to bore a
small hole at the level of her right eye. She did this
from the outside so that it should be less noticeable,
and she dared not make it too large lest it should
attract attention.

“There, that’ll do,’”’ she remarked at last.

“Oh! but, my lady, my lady—”

“Vesp? :

“But they'll find you—if they should open the door.”

“They won’t open the door,” said Bundle, “because
you are going to lock it and take the key away.”

“And if by chance Mr. Mosgorovsky should ask
for the key?”

“Tell him it’s lost,” said Bundle briskly. “But no-
body’s going to worry about this cupboard—it’s only
here to attract attention from the other one and make
a pair. Go on, Alfred, someone might come at any
time. Lock me in and take the key and come and let
me out when everyone’s gone.”

“You'll be taken bad, my lady. You'll faint—”

“T never faint,” said Bundle. “But you might as
well get me a cocktail. I shall certainly need it. Then
lock the door of the room again—don’t forget—and
take all the door keys back to their proper doors. And,

126 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Alfred—don’t be too much of a rabbit. Remember, if
anything goes wrong, I’ll see you through.”

“And that’s that,” said Bundle to herself when, hav-
ing served the cocktail, Alfred had finally departed.

She was not nervous lest Alfred’s nerve should fail
and he should give her away. She knew that his sense
of self-preservation was far too strong for that. His
training alone helped him to conceal private emotions
beneath the mask of the well trained servant.

Only one thing worried Bundle. The interpretation
she had chosen to put upon the cleaning of the room
that morning might be all wrong. And if so—Bundle
sighed in the narrow confines of the cupboard. The
prospect of spending long hours in it for nothing was
not attractive.

CHAPTER XIV
THE MEETING OF THE SEVEN DIALS

It would be as well to pass over the sufferings of the
next four hours as quickly as possible. Bundle found
her position extremely cramped. She had judged that
the meeting, if meeting there was to be, would take
place at a time when the club was in full swing—some-
where probably between the hours of midnight and
2 AM.

She was just deciding that it must be at least six
o’clock in the morning when a welcome sound came to
her ears, the sound of the unlocking of a door.

In another minute the electric light was switched on.
The hum of voices, which had come to her for a
minute or two rather like the far-off roar of sea waves,
ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and Bundle heard
the sound of a bolt being shot. Clearly someone had
come in from the gaming room next door, and she paid
tribute to the thoroughness with which the communi-
cating door had been rendered sound proof.

In another minute the intruder came into her line of
vision—a line of vision that was necessarily somewhat
incomplete but which yet answered its purpose. A tall
man, broad shouldered and powerful looking, with a
long black beard. Bundle remembered having seen
him sitting at one of the baccarat tables on the pre-
ceding night. .

127

128 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

This, then, was Alfred’s mysterious Russian gentle-
man, the proprietor of the club, the sinister Mr. Mos-
gorovsky. Bundle’s heart beat faster with excite-
ment. So little did she resemble her father that at
this minute she fairly gloried in the extreme discomfort
of her position.

The Russian remained for some minutes standing by
the table, stroking his beard. Then he drew a watch
from his pocket and glanced at the time. Nodding his
head as though satisfied, he again thrust his hand into
his pocket, and, pulling out something that Bundle
could not see, he moved out of her line of vision.

When he reappeared again, she could hardly help
giving a gasp of surprise.

His face was now covered by a mask—but hardly a
mask in the conventional sense. It was not shaped to
the face. It was a mere piece of material hanging in
front of the features like a curtain in which two slits
were pierced for the eyes. In shape it was round and
on it was the representation of a clock face, with the
hands pointing to six o’clock.

“The Seven Dials!” said Bundle to herself.

And at that minute there came a new sound—seven
muffled taps.

Mosgorovsky strode across to where Bundle knew
was the other cupboard door. She heard a sharp click,
and then the sound of greetings in a foreign tongue.

Presently she had a view of the newcomers.

They also wore clock masks, but in their case the
hands were in a different position—four o’clock and

~ Cy

MEETING OF THE SEVEN DIALS 129

five o’clock respectively. Both men were in evening
dress—but with a difference. One was an elegant,
slender young man wearing evening clothes of exquisite
cut. The grace with which he moved was foreign
rather than English. The other man could be better
described as wiry and lean. His clothes fitted him
sufficiently well, but no more, and Bundle guessed at
his nationality even before she heard his voice.

“T reckon we’re the first to arrive at this little meet-
ing.”

A full pleasant voice with a slight American drawl,
and an inflection of Irish behind it.

The elegant young man said in good, but slightly
stilted, English:

“T had much difficulty in getting away to-night.
These things do not always arrange themselves fortu-
nately. I am not, like No. 4 here, my own master.”

Bundle tried to guess at his nationality. Until he
spoke, she had thought he might be French, but the
accent was not a French one. He might possibly, she
thought, be an Austrian, or a Hungarian, or even a
Russian.

The American moved to the other side of the table,
and Bundle heard a chair being pulled out.

_ “One o’clock’s being a great success,” he said. “I
congratulate you on taking the risk.”

Five o’clock shrugged his shoulders.

“Unless one takes risks—” He left the sentence un-

finished.

130 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Again seven taps sounded, and Mosgorovsky moved
across to the secret door.

She failed to catch anything definite for some mo-
ments since the whole company were out of sight, but
presently she heard the bearded Russian’s voice up-
raised.

“Shall we begin proceedings?”

He himself came round the table and took the seat
next to the armchair at the top. Sitting thus, he was
directly facing Bundle’s cupboard. The elegant five
o’clock took the place next to him. The third chair
that side was out of Bundle’s sight, but the American,
No. 4, moved into her line of vision for a moment or
two before he sat down.

On the near side of the table also, only two chairs
were visible, and as she watched a hand turned the
second—treally the middle chair—down. And then
with a swift movement, one of the newcomers brushed
past the cupboard and took the chair opposite Mos-
gorovsky. Whoever sat there had, of course, their back
directly turned to Bundle—and it was at that back
that Bundle was staring with a good deal of interest, for
it was the back of a singularly beautiful woman very
much décolleté.

It was she who spoke first. Her voice was musical,
foreign—with a deep seductive note in it. She was
glancing towards the empty chair at the head of the
table.

“So we are not to see No. 7 to-night?” she said.
“Tell me, my friends, shall we ever see him?”

MEETING OF THE SEVEN DIALS 1331

“That’s darned good,” said the American. ‘“Darned
good! As for seven o’clock—ZI’m beginning to believe
there is no such person.”

“T should not advise you to think that, my friend,”
said the Russian pleasantly.

There was a silence—rather an uncomfortable si-
lence, Bundle felt.

She was still staring as though fascinated at the beau-
tiful back in front of her. There was a tiny black
mole just below the right shoulder blade that en-
hanced the whiteness of the skin. Bundle felt that at
last the term “beautiful adventuress,” so often read,
had a real meaning for her. She was quite certain that
this woman had a beautiful face—a dark Slavonic face
with passionate eyes.

She was recalled from her imaginings by the voice of
the Russian, who seemed to act as master of cere-
monies.

“Shall we get on with our business? First to our ab-
sent comrade! No. 2!”

He made a curious gesture with his hand towards
the turned down chair next to the woman, which every
one present imitated, turning to the chair as they did
so.

“T wish No. 2 were with us to-night,” he continued.
“There are many things to be done. Unsuspected dif-
ficulties have arisen.”

“Have you had his report?” It was the American
who spoke.

132 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“As yet—I have nothing from him.” There was a
pause. “I cannot understand it.”

“You think it may have—gone astray?”

“That is—a possibility.”

“Tn other words,” said five o’clock softly, “there is—
danger.”

He spoke the word delicately—and yet with relish.

The Russian nodded emphatically.

‘“‘Ves—there’s danger. Too much is getting known
about us—about this place. I know of several people
who suspect.” He added coldly: “They must be
silenced.”

Bundle felt a little cold shiver pass down her spine.
If she were to be found, would she be silenced? She
was recalled suddenly to attention by a word.

“So nothing has come to light about Chimneys?”

Mosgorovsky shook his head.

“Nothing.”

Suddenly No. 5 leant forward.

“TI agree with Anna; where is our president—No. 7?
He who called us into being. Why do we never see
him?”

“No. 7,” said the Russian, “has his own ways of
working.”

“So you always say.”

“I will say more,” said Mosgorovsky. “I pity the
man—or woman—who comes up against him.”

There was an awkward silence.

“We must get on with our business,” said Mosgorov-

—s

MEETING OF THE SEVEN DIALS 133

sky quietly. “No. 3, you have the plans of Wyvern
Abbey?” ;

Bundle strained her ears. So far she had neither
caught a glimpse of No. 3, nor had she heard his voice.
She heard it now and recognized it as unmistakable.
Low, pleasant, indistinct—the voice of a well-bred Eng-
lishman.

“T’ve got them here, sir.”

Some papers were shoved across the table. Every-
one bent forward. Presently Mosgorovsky raised his
head again.

“And the list of guests?”

“Here.”

The Russian read them.

“Sir Stanley Digby. Mr. Terence O’Rourke. Sir
Oswald and Lady Coote. Mr. Bateman. Countess
Anna Radzky. Mrs. Macatta. Mr. James Thesiger
—” he paused and then asked sharply:

“Who is Mr. James Thesiger?”

The American laughed.

“T guess you needn’t wosry any about him. The
usual complete young ass.’

The Russian continued readies

“Herr Eberhard and Mr. Eversleigh. That com-
pletes the list.”

“Toes it?” said Bundle silently. “What about that
sweet girl, Lady Eileen Brent?”

“Yes, there seems nothing to worry abeiit there,”
said Mosgorovsky. He looked across the table. “I

134 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

suppose there’s no doubt whatever about the value of
Eberhard’s invention?”

Three o’clock made a laconic British reply.

“None whatever.”

“Commercially it should be worth millions,” said the
Russian. “And internationally—well, one knows only
too well the greed of nations.”

Bundle had an idea that behind his mask he was
smiling unpleasantly.

“Yes,”’ he went on, “a gold mine.”

“Well worth a few lives,” said No. 5, cynically, and
laughed.

“But you know what inventions are,” said the Amer-
ican. ‘Sometimes these darned things won’t work.”

“A man like Sir Oswald Coote will have made no
mistake,” said Mosgorovsky.

“Speaking as an aviator myself,” said No. 5, “the
thing is perfectly feasible. It has been discussed for
years—but it needed the genius of Eberhard to bring
it to fruition.”

“Well,” said Mosgorovsky, “I don’t think we need
discuss matters any further. You have all seen the
plans. I do not think our original scheme can be bet-
tered. By the way, I hear something about a letter
of Gerald Wade’s that has been found—a letter that
mentions this organization. Who found it?”

“Lord Caterham’s daughter—Lady Eileen Brent.”

“Bauer should have been on to that,” said Mosgorov-
sky. “It was careless of him. Who was the letter
written to?”

MEETING OF THE SEVEN DIALS 135

“His sister, I believe,” said No. 3.

“Unfortunate,” said Mosgorovsky. “But it cannot
be helped. The inquest on Ronald Devereux is to-mor-
row. I suppose that has been arranged for?”

“Reports as to local lads having been practising with
rifles have been spread everywhere,” said the Amer-
ican.

“That should be all right then. I think there is
nothing further to be said. I think we must all con-
gratulate our dear one o’clock and wish her luck in the
part she has to play.”

“Hurrah!” cried No. 5. “To Anna!”

All hands flew out in the same gesture which Bundle
had noticed before.

“To Anna!”

One o’clock acknowledged the salutation with a typi-
cally foreign gesture. Then she rose to her feet and the
others followed suit. For the first time, Bundle caught
a glimpse of No. 3 as he came to put Anna’s cloak
round her—a tall, heavily built man.

Then the party filed out through the secret door.
Mosgorovsky secured it after them. He waited a few
moments and then Bundle heard him unbolt the other
door and pass through, after extinguishing the electric
light.

It was not until two hours later that a white and
anxious Alfred came to release Bundle. She almost
fell into his arms and he had to hold her up.

“Nothing,” said Bundle. “Just stiff, that’s all.
Here, let me sit down.”

136 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Oh, Gord, my lady, it’s been awful.”

“Nonsense,” said Bundle. “It all went off splen-
didly. Don’t get the wind up now it’s all over. It
might have gone wrong, but thank goodness it didn’t.”

“Thank goodness, as you say, my lady. I’ve been in
a twitter all the evening. They’re a funny crowd, you
know.”

“A damned funny crowd,” said Bundle, vigorously
massaging her arms and legs. “As a matter of fact,
they’re the sort of crowd I always imagined until
to-night only existed in books. In this life, Alfred, one
never stops learning.”

CHAPTER XV
THE INQUEST

BUNDLE reached home about 6 a.m. She was up and
dressed by half-past nine, and rang up Jimmy Thesiger
on the telephone.

The promptitude of his reply somewhat surprised
her, till he explained that he was going down to attend
the inquest.

“So am I,” said Bundle. “And I’ve got a lot to
tell you.”

“Well, suppose you let me drive you down and we
can talk on the way. How about that?”

“All right. But allow a bit extra because you’ll have
to take me to Chimneys. The Chief Constable’s pick-
ing me up there.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a kind man,” said Bundle.

“So am I,” said Jimmy. “Very kind.”

“Oh! you—you’re an ass,” said Bundle. “I heard
somebody say so last night.”

“Whore”

“To be strictly accurate—a Russian Jew. No, it
wasn’t. It was—” |

But an indignant protest drowned her words.

“T may be an ass,” said Jimmy. “I daresay I am—
but I won’t have Russian Jews saying so. What were

you doing last night, Bundle?”
137

138 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“That’s what I’m going to talk about,” said Bundle.
“Good-bye for the moment.”

She rang off in a tantalizing manner which left
Jimmy pleasantly puzzled. He had the highest respect
for Bundle’s capabilities, though there was not the
slightest trace of sentiment in his feeling towards her.

“She’s been up to something,” he opined, as he took
a last hasty drink of coffee. “Depend upon it, she’s
been up to something.”

Twenty minutes later, his little two-seater drew up
before the Brook Street house and Bundle, who had
been waiting, came tripping down the steps. Jimmy
was not ordinarily an observant young man, but he no-
ticed that there were black rings round Bundle’s eyes
and that she had all the appearance of having had a
late night the night before.

“Now then,” he said, as the car began to nose her
way through the saburke, “what dark deeds have you
been up to?”

“Tl tell you,” said Bundle. “But don’t interrupt
until I’ve finished.”

It was a somewhat long story, and Jimmy had all he
could do to keep sufficient attention on the car to pre-
vent an accident. When Bundle had finished he sighed
—then looked at her searchingly.

“Bundle?”

“Vesp”

“Look here, you’re not pulling my leg?”

“What do you mean?”

j
f
'
;

THE INQUEST 139

“T’m sorry,” apologized Jimmy, “but it seems to me
as though I’d heard it all before—in a dream, you
know.”

“I know,” said Bundle sympathetically.

“It’s impossible,” said Jimmy, following out his own
train of thought. “The beautiful foreign adventuress,
the international gang, the mysterious No. 7, whose
identity nobody knows—lI’ve read it all a hundred
times in books.”

“Of course you have. So have I. But it’s no rea-
son why it shouldn’t really happen.”

“T suppose not,” admitted Jimmy.

“After all—I suppose fiction is founded on the truth.
I mean unless things did happen, people couldn’t think
of them.”

“There is something in what you say,” agreed
Jimmy. “But all the same I can’t help pinching my-
self to see if I’m awake.”

“That’s how I felt.”

Jimmy gave a deep sigh.

‘Well, I suppose we are awake. Let me see, a Rus-
sian, an American, an Englishman—a possible Austrian
or Hungarian—and the lady who may be any national-
ity—for choice Russian or Polish—that’s a pretty rep-
resentative gathering.”

“And a German,” said Bundle. ‘You've forgotten
the German.”

“Oh!” said Jimmy slowly. “You think—”

“The absent No. 2. No. 2 is Bauer—our footman.

140 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

That seems to me quite clear from what they said about
expecting a report which hadn’t come in—though what
there can be to report about Chimneys, I can’t think.”

“Tt must be something to do with Gerry Wade’s
death,” said Jimmy. “There’s something there we
haven’t fathomed yet. You say they actually men-
tioned Bauer by name?”

Bundle nodded.

“They blamed him for not having found that letter.”

“Well, I don’t see what you could have clearer than
that. There’s no going against it. You'll have to for-
give my first incredulity, Bundle—but you know, it was
rather a tall story. You say they knew about my going
down to Wyvern Abbey next week?”

“Yes, that’s when the American—it was him, not the
Russian—said they needn’t worry—you were only the
usual kind of ass.”

“Ah!” said Jimmy. He pressed his foot down on the
accelerator viciously and the car shot forward. ‘I’m
very glad you told me that. It gives me what you
might call a personal interest in the case.”

He was silent for a minute or two and then he said:

“Did you say that German inventor’s name was
Eberhard?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Wait a minute. Something’s coming back to me.
Eberhard, Eberhard—yes, I’m sure that was the
name.”

“Tell me.”

“Eberhard was a Johnny who’d got some patent

iin

ee Tou

THE INQUEST 141

process he applied to steel. I can’t put the thing prop-
erly because I haven’t got the scientific- knowledge—
but I know the result was that it became so toughened
that a wire was as strong as a steel bar had previously
been. Eberhard had to do with aeroplanes and his idea
was that the weight would be so enormously reduced
that flying would be practically revolutionized—the
cost of it, I mean. I believe he offered his invention
to the German Government, and they turned it down,
pointed out some undeniable flaw in it—but they did it
rather nastily. He set to work and circumvented the
difficulty, whatever it was, but he’d been offended by
their attitude and swore they shouldn’t have his ewe
lamb. I always thought the whole thing was probably
bunkum, but now—it looks differently.”

“That’s it,” said Bundle eagerly. ‘You must be
right, Jimmy. Eberhard must have offered his inven-
tion to our Government. They’ve been taking, or are
going to take, Sir Oswald Coote’s expert opinion on it.
There’s going to be an unofficial conference at the
Abbey. Sir Oswald, George, the Air Minister and
Eberhard. Eberhard will have the plans or the process
or whatever you call it—”

“Formula,” suggested Jimmy. “I think ‘formula’
is a good word myself.”

_ “He’ll have the formula with him, and the Seven
Dials are out to steal the formula. I remember the
Russian saying it was worth millions.”

“T suppose it would be,” said Jimmy. |

142 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“And well worth a few lives—that’s what the other
man said.”

“Well, it seems to have been,” said Jimmy, his face
clouding over. “Look at this damned inquest to-day.
Bundle, are you sure Ronny said nothing else?”

“No,” said Bundle. “Just that. Seven Dials. Tell
Jimmy Thesiger. That’s all he could get out, poor
lad.”

“T wish we knew what he knew,” said Jimmy. “But
we’ve found out one thing. I take it that the footman,
Bauer, must almost certainly have been responsible for
Gerry’s death. You know, Bundle—”

“Ves p”?

“Well, I’m a bit worried sometimes. Who’s going to
be the next one! It really isn’t the sort of business
for a girl to be mixed up in.”

Bundle smiled in spite of herself. It occurred to her
that it had taken Jimmy a long time to put her in the
same category as Loraine Wade.

“It’s far more likely to be you than me,” she re-
marked cheerfully,

“Hear, hear,” said Jimmy. “But what about a few
casualties on the other side for a change? I’m feeling
rather bloodthirsty this morning. Tell me, Bundle,
would you recognize any of these people if you saw
them?”

Bundle hesitated.

“I think I should recognize No. 5,” she said at last.
“He’s got a queer way of speaking—a kind of veno-
mous, lisping way—that I think I’d know again.”

THE INQUEST 143

“What about the Englishman?”

Bundle shook her head. :

“I saw him least—only a glimpse—and he’s got a
very ordinary voice. Except that he’s a big man,
there’s nothing much to go by.”

“There’s the woman, of course,” continued Jimmy.
“She ought to be easier. But then, you’re not likely
to run across her. She’s probably putting in the dirty
work being taken out to dinner by amorous Cabinet
Ministers and getting State secrets out of them when
they’ve had a couple. At least, that’s how it’s done in
books. As a matter of fact, the only Cabinet Minister
I know drinks hot water with a dash of lemon in it.”

“Take George Lomax, for instance, can you imagine
him being amorous with beautiful foreign women?”
said Bundle with a laugh.

Jimmy agreed with her criticism.

“And now about the man of mystery—No. 7,” went
on Jimmy. ‘You’ve no idea who he could be?”

“None whatever.”

“‘Again—by book standard, that is—he ought to be
someone we all know. What about George Lomax
himself?”

Bundle reluctantly shook her head.

“In a book, it would be perfect,” she agreed. “But
knowing Codders—” And she gave herself up to a
sudden uncontrollable mirth. ‘Codders, the great crim-
inal organizer,” she gasped. ‘“Wouldn’t it be marvel-
lous?”

Jimmy agreed that it would. Their discussion had .

144 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

taken some time and his driving had slowed down in-
voluntarily once or twice. They arrived at Chimneys,
to find Colonel Melrose already there waiting. Jimmy
was introduced to him and they all three proceeded to
the inquest together.

As Colonel Melrose had predicted, the whole affair
was very simple. Bundle gave her evidence. The doc-
tor gave his. Evidence was given of rifle practice in
the neighbourhood. A verdict of death by misadven-
ture was brought in.

After the proceedings were over, Colonel Melrose
volunteered to drive Bundle back to Chimneys, and
Jimmy Thesiger returned to London. For all his light-
hearted manner, Bundle’s story had impressed him pro-
foundly. He set his lips closely together.

“Ronny, old boy,” he murmured, “I’m going to be
up against it. And you’re not here to join in the
game.”

Another thought flashed into his mind. Loraine!
Was she in danger?

After a minute or two’s hesitation, he went over to
the telephone and rang her up.

“It’s me—Jimmy. I thought you’d like to know the
result of the inquest. Death by misadventuré.”

“Oh, but—”

“Yes, but I think there’s something behind that.
The coroner had had a hint. Someone’s at work to
hush it up. I say, Loraine—”

Ves Pp”? /

“Look here. There’s—there’s some funny business

THE INQUEST 145

going about. Youll be very careful, won’t you? For
my sake,” :

He heard the quick note of alarm that sprang into
her voice.

“Jimmy—but then it’s dangerous—for you.”

He laughed.

“Oh, that’s all right. I’m the cat that had nine
lives. Bye-bye, old thing.”

He rang off and remained a minute or two lost in
thought. Then he summoned Stevens.

“Do you think you could go out and buy me a pistol,
Stevens?” :

“A pistol, sir?”

True to his training, Stevens betrayed no hint of
surprise.

‘What kind of a pistol would you be requiring?”

“The kind where you put your finger on the trigger
and the thing goes on shooting until you take it off
again,”

“An automatic, sir.”

“That’s it,” said Jimmy. “An automatic. And I
should like it to be a blue-nosed one—if you and the
shopman know what that is. In American stories, the
hero always takes his blue-nosed automatic from his
hip pocket.”

Stevens permitted himself a faint, discreet smile.

“Most American gentlemen that I have known, sir,
carry something very different in their hip pockets,” he
observed.

Jimmy Thesiger laughed.

CHAPTER XVI
THE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY

BUNDLE drove over to Wyvern Abbey just in time for
tea on Friday afternoon. George Lomax came forward
to welcome her with considerable empressement.

“My dear Eileen,” he said, “I can’t tell you how
pleased I am to see you here. You must forgive my not
having invited you when I asked your father, but to
tell the truth I never dreamed that a party of this
kind would appeal to you. I was both—er—surprised
and—er—delighted when Lady Caterham told me of
your—er—interest in—er—politics.”

“TI wanted to come so much,” said Bundle in a sim-
ple, ingenuous manner.

“Mrs. Macatta will not arrive till the later train,”
explained George. “She was speaking at a meeting in
Manchester last night. Do you know Thesiger? Quite
a young fellow, but a remarkable grasp of foreign
politics. One would hardly suspect it from his ap-
pearance,”

“TI know Mr. Thesiger,” said Bundle, and she shook
hands solemnly with Jimmy, whom she observed had
parted his hair in the middle in the endeavour to add
earnestness to his expression.

“Look here,” said Jimmy in a low hurried voice, 2 as

146

THE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY 147

George temporarily withdrew. ‘You mustn’t be angry,
but I’ve told Bill about our little stunt.” -

“Bill?” said Bundle, annoyed.

“Well, after all,” said Jimmy, “Bill is one of the
lads, you know. Ronny was a pal of his and so was
Gerry.”

“Oh! I know,” said Bundle.

“But you think it’s a pity? Sorry.”

“Bill’s all right, of course. It isn’t that,” said
Bundle. “But he’s—well, Bill’s a born blunderer.”

“Not mentally very agile?” suggested Jimmy. “But
you forget one thing—Bill’s got a very hefty fist. And
I’ve an idea that a hefty fist is going to come in handy.”

“Well, perhaps you’re right. How did he take it?”

‘Well, he clutched his head a good bit, but—I mean
the facts took some driving home. But by repeating
the thing patiently in words of one syllable I at last
got it into his thick head. And, naturally, he’s with us
to the death, as you might say.”

George reappeared suddenly.

“T must make some introductions, Eileen. This
is Sir Stanley Digby—Lady Eileen Brent. Mr.
O’Rourke. The Air Minister was a little round man
with a cheerful smile. Mr. O’Rourke, a tall young
man with laughing blue eyes and a typical Irish face,
greeted Bundle with enthusiasm.

“And I thinking it was going to be a dull alte
party entirely,” he murmured in an adroit whisper.

“Hush,” said Bundle. “I’m political—very politi-
cal.”

148 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Sir Oswald and Lady Coote you know,” continued
George.

““We’ve never actually met,” said Bundle, smiling.

She was mentally applauding her father’s descriptive
powers.

Sir Oswald took her hand in an iron grip and she
winced slightly.

Lady Coote, after a somewhat mournful greeting,
had turned to Jimmy Thesiger, and appeared to be reg-
istering something closely akin to pleasure. Despite his
reprehensible habit of being late for breakfast, Lady
Coote had a fondness for this amiable, pink-faced
young man. His air of irrepressible good nature fasci-
nated her. She had a motherly wish to cure him of
his bad habits and form him into one of the world’s
workers. Whether, once formed, he would be as at-
tractive was a question she had never asked herself.
She began now to tell him of a very painful motor
accident which had happened to one of her friends.

“Mr. Bateman,” said George briefly, as one who
would pass on-to better things.

A serious, pale-faced young man bowed.

“And now,” continued George, “I must introduce
you to Countess Radzky.”

Countess Radzky had been conversing with Mr.
Bateman. Leaning very far back on a sofa, with her
legs crossed in a daring manner, she was smoking a
cigarette in an incredibly long turquoise studded holder.

Bundle thought she was one of the most beautiful
women she had ever seen. Her eyes were very large

THE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY 149

and blue, her hair was coal black, she had a matte
skin, the slightly flattened nose of the Slav, and a sinu-
ous, slender body. Her lips were reddened to a degree
with which Bundle was sure Wyvern Abbey was totally
unacquainted.

She said eagerly: ‘‘This is Mrs. Macatta—yes?”

On George’s replying in the negative and introducing
Bundle, the Countess gave her a careless nod, and at
once resumed her conversation with the serious Mr.
Bateman.

Bundle heard Jimmy’s voice in her ear:

“Pongo is absolutely fascinated by the lovely Slav,”
he said. “Pathetic, isn’t it? Come and have some
tea.” ;

They drifted once more into the neighbourhood of
Sir Oswald Coote.

“That’s a fine place of yours, Chimneys,” remarked
the great man.

“T’m glad you liked it,” said Bundle meekly.

“Wants new plumbing,” said Sir Oswald. “Bring
it up to date, you know.”

He ruminated for a minute or two.

“I’m taking the Duke of Alton’s place. Three years.
Just while I’m looking round for a place of my own.
Your father couldn’t sell if he wanted to, I suppose.”

Bundle felt her breath taken away. She had a night-
mare vision of England with innumerable Cootes in
innumerable counterparts of Chimneys—all, be it un-
derstood, with an entirely new system of plumbing
installed.

150 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

She felt a sudden violent resentment which, she told
herself, was absurd. After all, contrasting Lord Cater-
ham with Sir Oswald Coote, there was no doubt as to
who would go to the wall. Sir Oswald had one of
those powerful personalities which make all those with
whom they come in contact appear faded. He was,
as Lord Caterham had said, a human steam-roller.
And yet, undoubtedly, in many ways, Sir Oswald was a
stupid man. Apart from his special line of knowledge
and his terrific driving force, he was probably intensely
ignorant. A hundred delicate appreciations of life
which Lord Caterham could and did enjoy were a
sealed book to Sir Oswald.

Whilst indulging in these reflections Bundle con-
tinued to chat pleasantly. Herr Eberhard, she heard,
had arrived, but was lying down with a nervous head-
ache. This was told her by Mr. O’Rourke, who man-
aged to find a place by her side and keep it.

Altogether, Bundle went up to dress in a pleasant
mood of expectation, with a slight nervous dread hover-
ing in the background whenever she thought of the im-
minent arrival of Mrs. Macatta. Bundle felt that
dalliance with Mrs. Macatta was going to prove no
primrose path.

Her first shock was when she came down, demurely
attired in a black lace frock, and passed along the hall.
A footman was standing there—at least a man dressed
as a footman. But that square, burly figure lent itself
badly to the deception. Bundle stopped and stared.

“Superintendent Battle,” she breathed. .

THE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY 151

“That’s right, Lady Eileen.”

“Oh!” said Bundle uncertainly. “Are you here to—
to—”

“Keep an eye on things.”

“I see.”

“That warning letter, you know,” said the Superin-
tendent, “fairly put the wind up Mr. Lomax. Nothing
would do for him but that I should come down my-
self.”

“But don’t you think—” began Bundle, and stopped.
She hardly liked to suggest to the Superintendent that
his disguise was not a particularly efficient one. He
seemed to have “police officer” written all over him,
and Bundle could hardly imagine the most unsuspect-
ing criminal failing to be put on his guard.

“You think,” said the Superintendently stolidly,
“that I might be recognized?”

He gave the final word a distinct capital letter.

“T did think so—yes—” admitted Bundle.

Something that might conceivably have been in-
tended for a smile crossed the woodenness of Superin-
tendent Battle’s features.

“Put them on their guard, eh? Well, Lady Eileen,
why not?”

“Why not?” echoed Bundle, rather stupidly, she felt.

Superintendent Battle was nodding his head slowly.

““We don’t want any unpleasantness, do we?” he said.
“Don’t want to be too clever—just show any light-
fingered gentry that may be about—well, just show
them that there’s somebody on the spot, so to speak.”

152 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Bundle gazed at him in some admiration. She could
imagine that the sudden appearance of so renowned a
personage as Superintendent Battle might have a de-
pressing effect on any scheme and the hatchers of it.

“Tt’s a great mistake to be too clever,” Superintend-
ent Battle was repeating. ‘The great thing is not to
have any unpleasantness this week-end.”

Bundle passed on, wondering how many of her fel-
low guests had recognized or would recognize the Scot-
land Yard detective. In the drawing-room George was
standing with a puckered brow and an orange envelope
in his hand.

“Most vexatious,” he said. “A telegram from Mrs.
Macatta to say she will be unable to be with us. Her
children are suffering from mumps.”

Bundle’s heart gave a throb of relief.

“T especially feel this on your account, Eileen,” said
George kindly. “I know how anxious you were to meet
her. The Countess too will be sadly disappointed.”

“Oh, never mind,” said Bundle. fi asa hate it
if she’d come and given me mumps.”

“A very distressing complaint,” mee" George.
“But I do not think that infection could be carried
that way. Indeed, I am sure that Mrs. Macatta would
have run no risk of that kind. She is a most highly
principled woman, with a very real sense of her re-
sponsibilities to the community. In these days of na-
tional stress, we must all take into account—

On the brink of embarking on a speech, George
pulled himself up short.

‘
+e
-

ee

ae

ee ee ee ee eee

THE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY 153

“But it must be for another time,” he said. ‘Fortu-
nately there is no hurry in your case. But the Count-
ess, alas, is only a visitor to our shores.”

“She’s a Hungarian, isn’t she?” said Bundle, who
was curious about the Countess.

“Yes. You have heard, no doubt, of the Young
Hungarian party? ‘The Countess is a leader in that
party. A woman of great wealth, left a widow at an
early age, she has devoted her money and her talents to
the public service. She has especially devoted herself
to the problem of infant mortality—a terrible one un-
der present conditions in Hungary. I— Ah! here is
Herr Eberhard.”

The German inventor was younger than Bundle
had imagined him. He was probably not more than
thirty-three or four. He was boorish and ill at ease,
and yet his personality was not an unpleasing one. His
blue eyes were more shy than furtive, and his more
unpleasant mannerisms, such as the one that Bill had
described of gnawing his finger nails, arose, she .
thought, more from nervousness than from any other
cause. He was thin and weedy in appearance and
looked anzmic and delicate.

He conversed rather awkwardly with Bundle in
stilted English and they both welcomed the interrup-
tion of the joyous Mr. O’Rourke. Presently Bill
bustled in—there is no other word for it. In the same
such way does a favoured Newfoundland make his
entrance, and at once came over to Bundle. He was
looking perplexed and harassed.

154 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Hullo, Bundle. Heard you’d got here. Been kept
with my nose to the grindstone all the blessed after-
noon or I’d have seen you before.”

“Cares of State heavy to-night?” suggested O’Rourke
sympathetically.

Bill groaned.

“T don’t know what your fellow’s like,” he com-
plained. ‘Looks a good-natured, tubby little chap.
But Codders is absolutely impossible. Drive, drive,
drive, from morning to night. Everything you do is
wrong, and everything you haven’t done you ought to
have done.”

“Quite like a quotation from the prayer book,” re-
marked Jimmy, who had just strolled up.

Bill glanced at them reproachfully.

“Nobody knows,” he said pathetically, “what I have
to put up with.”

“Entertaining the Countess, eh?” suggested Jimmy.
“Poor Bill, that must have been a sad strain—to a
woman hater like yourself.”

_ “What’s this?” asked Bundle.

“After tea,” said Jimmy with a grin, “the Countess
asked Bill to show her round the interesting old place.”

“Well, I couldn’t refuse, could I?” said Bill, his
countenance assuming a brick-red tint.

Bundle felt faintly uneasy. She knew, only too well,
the susceptibility of Mr. William Eversleigh to female
charms. In the hands of a woman like the Countess,
Bill would be as wax. She wondered once more

THE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY 155

whether Jimmy Thesiger had been wise to take Bill
into their confidence.

“The Countess,” said Bill, “is a very charming wo-
man. And no end intelligent. You should have seen
her going round the house. All sorts of questions she
asked.”

“What kind of questions?” asked Bundle suddenly.

Bill was vague.

“Oh! I don’t know. About the history of it. And
old furniture. And—oh! all sorts of things.”

At that moment the Countess swept into the room.
She seemed a shade breathless. She was looking mag-
nificent in a close-fitting black velvet gown. Bundle
noticed how Bill gravitated at once into her immediate
neighbourhood. The serious, spectacled young man
joined him.

“Bill and Pongo have both got it badly,” observed
Jimmy Thesiger with a laugh.

Bundle was by no means so sure that it was a laugh-
ing matter.

CHAPTER XVII
AFTER DINNER

GEORGE was not a believer in modern innovations. The
Abbey was innocent of anything so up to date as cen-
tral heating. Consequently, when the ladies entered
the drawing-room after dinner, the temperature of the
room was woefully inadequate to the needs of modern
evening clothes. The fire that burnt in the well bur-
nished steel grate became as a magnet. The three
women huddled round it.

“Brrrrrrrrrrir!” said the Countess, a fine, exotic,
foreign sound.

“The days are drawing in,” said Lady Coote, and
drew a flowered atrocity of a scarf closer about her
ample shoulders.

“Why on earth doesn’t George have the house prop-
erly heated?” said Bundle.

“You English, you never heat your houses,” said the
Countess.

She took out her long cigarette holder and began to
smoke.

“That grate is old-fashioned,” said Lady Coote.
“The heat goes up the chimney instead of into the
room.”

“Oh!” said the Countess.

There was a pause. The Countess was so plainly

156

ee ee ee ee

AFTER DINNER 157

bored by her company that conversation became diffi-
cult. ;

“It’s funny,” said Lady Coote, breaking the silence,
“that Mrs. Macatta’s children should have mumps.
At least, I don’t mean exactly funny—”

“What,” said the Countess, “are mumps?”

Bundle and Lady Coote started simultaneously to
explain. Finally, between them, they managed it.

“T suppose Hungarian children have it?” asked Lady
Coote.

“Eh?” said the Countess.

“Hungarian children. They suffer from it?”

“T do not know,” said the Countess. “How should
TP”

Lady Coote looked at her in some surprise.

“But I understood that you worked—”

“Oh, that!” The Countess uncrossed her legs, took
her cigarette holder from her mouth and began to talk
rapidly.

“T will tell you some horrors,” she said. “Horrors
that I have seen. Incredible! You would not be-
lieve!”

And she was as good as her word. She talked
fluently and with a graphic power of description. In-
credible scenes of starvation and misery were painted
by her for the benefit of her audience. She spoke of
Buda Pesth shortly after the war and traced its vicissi-
tudes to the present day. She was dramatic, but she
was also, to Bundle’s mind, a little like a gramophone

158 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

record. You turned her on, and there you were. Pres-
ently, just as suddenly, she would stop.

Lady Coote was thrilled to the marrow—that much
was clear. She sat with her mouth slightly open and
her large, sad, dark eyes fixed on the Countess. Oc-
casionally, she interpolated a comment of her own.

“One of my cousins had three children burned to
death. Awful, wasn’t it?”

The Countess paid no attention. She went on and
on. And she finally stopped as suddenly as she had
begun.

“There!” she said. “I have told you! We have
money—but no organization. It is organization we
need.”

Lady Coote sighed.

“T’ve heard my husband say that nothing can be done
without regular methods. He attributes his own suc-
cess entirely to that. He declares he would have never
got on without them.”

She sighed again. A sudden fleeting vision passed
before her eyes of a Sir Oswald who had not got on in
the world. A Sir Oswald who retained, in all essentials,
the attributes of that cheery young man in the bicycle
shop. Just for a second it occurred to her how much
pleasanter life might have been for her if Sir Oswald
had not had regular methods.

By a quite understandable association of ideas she
turned to Bundle.

“Tell me, Lady Eileen,” she said, ‘“‘do you like that
head gardener of yours?”

— eS

<.

AFTER DINNER 159

“MacDonald? Well—’ Bundle hesitated. “One
couldn’t exactly like MacDonald,” she explained apolo-
getically. ‘But he’s a first class gardener.”

“Oh! I know he is,” said Lady Coote.

“He’s all right if he’s kept in his place,” said Bundle.

“T suppose so,” said Lady Coote.

She looked enviously at Bundle, who appeared to
approach the task of keeping MacDonald in his place
so light heartedly.

“T’d just adore a high-toned garden,” said the Count-
ess dreamily.

Bundle stared, but at that moment a diversion oc-
curred. Jimmy Thesiger entered the room and spoke
directly to her in a strange, hurried voice.

“T say, will you come and see those etchings now?
They’re waiting for you.”

Bundle left the room hurriedly, Jimmy close behind
her.

“What etchings?” she asked, as the drawing-room
door closed behind her.

“No etchings,” said Jimmy. “I'd got to say some-
thing to get hold of you. Come on, Bill is waiting for
us in the library. There’s nobody there.”

Bill was striding up and down the library, clearly
in a very perturbed state of mind.

“Look here,” he burst out, “I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?”

“You being mixed up in this. Ten to one there’s go-
ing to be a rough house and then—”

160 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

He looked at her with a kind of pathetic dismay that
gave Bundle a warm and comfortable feeling.

“She ought to be kept out of it, oughtn’t she,
Jimmy?”

He appealed to the other.

“T’ve told her so,” said Jimmy.

“Dash it all, Bundle, I mean—someone might get
hurt.”

Bundle turned round to Jimmy.

“How much have you told him?”

“Oh! everything.”

“T haven’t got the hang of it all yet,” confessed Bill.
“You in that place in Seven Dials and all that.” He
looked at her unhappily. “I say, Bundle, I wish you
wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Get mixed up in these sorts of things.”

“Why not?” said Bundle. ‘“They’re exciting.”

“Oh, yes—exciting. But they may be damnably
dangerous. Look at poor old Ronny.”

“Yes,” said Bundle. “If it hadn’t been for your
friend Ronny, I don’t suppose I should ever have got
what you call ‘mixed up’ in this thing. ButIam. And
it’s no earthly use your bleating about it.”

“I know you're the most frightful sport, Bundle,
but—”

“Cut out the compliments. Let’s make plans.”

To her relief, Bill reacted favourably to the sug-
gestion.

“You're right about the formula,” he said. “Eber-

AFTER DINNER 161

hard’s got some sort of formula with him, or rather Sir
Oswald has. The stuff has been tested out-at his works
—very secretly and all that. Eberhard has been down
there with him. They’re all in the study now—what
you might call coming down to brass tacks.”

“How long is Sir Stanley Digby staying?” asked
Jimmy.

“Going back to town to-morrow.”

“Fm,” said Jimmy. ‘Then one thing’s quite clear.
If, as I suppose, Sir Stanley will be taking the formula
with him, any funny business there’s going to be will be
to-night.”

“T suppose it will.”

“Not a doubt of it. That narrows the thing down
very comfortably. But the bright lads will have to be
their very brightest. We must come down to details.
First of all, where will the sacred formula be to-night?
Wili Eberhard have it, or Sir Oswald Coote?”

“Neither. I understand it’s to be handed over to the
Air Minister this evening, for him to take to town to-
morrow. In that case O’Rourke will have it. Sure
to.”

“Well, there’s only one thing for it. If we believe
someone’s going to have a shot at pinching that paper,
we’ve got to keep watch to-night, Bill, my boy.”

Bundle opened her mouth as though to protest, but
shut it again without speaking.

“By the way,” continued Jimmy, “did I recognize
the commissionaire from Harrods in the hall this eve-

162 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

ning, or was it our old friend Lestrade from Scotland
Yard?”

“Scintillating, Watson,” said Bill.

“T suppose,” said Jimmy, “that we are rather butting
in on his preserves.”

“Can’t be helped,” said Bill. “Not if we mean to see
this thing through.”

“Then it’s agreed,” said Jimmy. “We divide the
night into two watches?”

Again Bundle opened her mouth, and again shut it
without speaking.

“Right you are,” agreed Bill. “Who'll take first
duty?”

“Shall we spin for it?”

“Might as well.”

“Allright. Here goes. Heads you first and I second.
Tails, vice versa.”

Bill nodded. The coin spun in the air. Jimmy bent
to look at it.

“Tails,” he said.

“Damn,” said Bill. “You get first half and probably
any fun that’s going.”

“Oh, you never know,” said Jimmy. ‘Criminals are
very uncertain. What time shall I wake you? Three
thirty?”

“That’s about fair, I think.”

And now, at last, Bundle spoke:

“What about me?” she asked.

“Nothing doing. You go to bed and sleep.”

AFTER DINNER 163

“Oh!” said Bundle. “That’s not very exciting.”

“You never know,” said Jimmy kindly. “You may
be murdered in your sleep whilst Bill and I escape
scot-free.”

“Well, there’s always that possibility. Do you know,
Jimmy, I don’t half like the look of that Countess. I
suspect her.”

“Nonsense,” cried Bill hotly. ‘She’s absolutely
above suspicion.”

“How do you know?” retorted Bundle.

“Because I do. Why, one of the fellows at the
Hungarian Embassy vouched for her.”

“Oh!” said Bundle, momentarily taken aback by his
fervour.

“You girls are all the same,” grumbled Bill. “Just
because she’s a jolly good-looking woman—”

Bundle was only too well acquainted with this unfair
masculine line of argument.

“Well, don’t you go and pour confidences into her
shell-pink ear,” she remarked. “I’m going to bed. I
was bored stiff in that drawing-room and I’m not going
back.”

She left the room. Bill looked at Jimmy.

“Good old Bundle,” he said. “I was afraid we
might have trouble with her. You know how keen she
is to be in everything. I think the way she took it
was just wonderful.” oe

“So did I,” said Jimmy. “It staggered me.”

“She’s got some sense, Bundle has. She knows when

164 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

a thing’s plumb impossible. I say, oughtn’t we to
have some lethal weapons? Chaps usually do when
they’re going on this sort of stunt.”

“T have a blue-nosed automatic,” said Jimmy with
gentle pride. “It weighs several pounds and looks
most murderous. I'll lend it to you when the time
comes.”

Bill looked at him with respect and envy.

“What made you think of getting that?” he said.

“TI don’t know,” said Jimmy carelessly. “It just
came to me.”

“T hope we shan’t go and shoot the wrong person,”
said Bill with some anxiety.

“That would be unfortunate,” said Mr. Thesiger

gravely.

CHAPTER XVIII
JIMMY’sS ADVENTURES

Our chronicle must here split into three separate and
distinct portions. The night was to prove an eventful
one and each of the three persons involved saw it from
his or her own individual angle.

We will begin with that pleasant and engaging youth,
Mr. Jimmy Thesiger, at a moment when he has at last
exchanged final good-nights with his fellow conspirator,
Bill Eversleigh.

“Don’t forget,” said Bill, “3 am. If you're still
alive, that is,” he added kindly.

“I may be an ass,” said Jimmy, with rancorous re-
membrance of the remark Bundle had repeated to him,
“but I’m not nearly so much of an ass as I look.”

“That’s what you said about Gerry Wade,” said
Bill slowly. “Do you remember? And that very night
he

“Shut up, you damned fool,” said Jimmy. ‘“Haven’t
you got any tact?”

“Of course I’ve got tact,” said Bill. “I’m a budding
diplomatist. All diplomatists have tact.” __

“Ah!” said Jimmy. ‘You must be still in what they
call the larval stage.”

“T can’t get over Bundle,” said Bill, reverting

abruptly to a former topic. “I should certainly have
165

166 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

,said that she’d be—well, difficult. Bundle’s improved.
She’s improved very much.”

“That’s what your Chief was saying,” said Jimmy.
“He said he was agreeably surprised.”

“T thought Bundle was laying it on a bit thick
myself,” said Bill. ‘But Codders is such an ass he’d
swallow anything. Well, night-night. I expect you'll
have a bit of a job waking me when the time comes—
but stick to it.”

“Tt won’t be much good if you’ve taken a leaf out
of Gerry Wade’s book,” said Jimmy maliciously.

Bill looked at him reproachfully.

“What the hell do you want to go and make a chap
uncomfortable for?” he demanded.

“You’re only getting your own back,” said Jimmy.
“Toddle along.”

But Bill lingered. He stood uncomfortably, first on
one foot and then on the other.

“Look here,” he said.

“Vesp”?

“What I mean to say is—well, I mean you'll be all
right and all that, won’t you? It’s all very well ragging,
but when I think of poor old Gerry—and then poor
old Ronny—”

Jimmy gazed at him in exasperation. Bill was one
of those who undoubtedly meant well, but the result of
his efforts would not be described as heartening.

“TI see,” he remarked, “that I shall have to show you
Leopold.”

He slipped his hand into the pocket of the dark blue

JIMMY’S ADVENTURES 167

suit into which he had just changed and held out some-
thing for Bill’s inspection.

“A real, genuine, blue-nosed automatic,” he said
with modest pride.

“No, I say,” said Bill. “Is it really?”

He was undoubtedly impressed.

“Stevens, my man, got him forme. Warranted clean
and methodical in his habits. You press the button and
Leopold does the rest.”

“Oh!” said Bill. “I say, Jimmy?”

“Vesp”

“Be careful, won’t you? I mean, don’t go loosing
that thing off at anybody. Pretty awkward if you shot
old Digby walking in his sleep.”

“That’s all right,” said Jimmy. ‘Naturally, I want
to get value out of Leopold now I’ve bought him, but
I'll curb my bloodthirsty instincts as far as possible.”

“Well, night-night,” said Bill for the fourteenth time,
and this time really did depart.

Jimmy was left alone to take up his vigil.

Sir Stanley Digby occupied a room at the extremity
of the west wing. A bathroom adjoined it on one side,
and on the other a communicating door led into a
smaller room, which was tenanted by Mr. Terence
O’Rourke. The doors of these three rooms gave on toa
short corridor. The watcher had a simple task. A chair
placed inconspicuously in the shadow of an oak press
just where the corridor ran into the main gallery formed
a perfect vantage ground. There was no other way into
the west wing, and anyone going to or from it could

168 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

not fail to be seen. One electric light was still on.

Jimmy ensconced himself comfortably, crossed his
legs and waited. Leopold lay in readiness across his
knee.

He glanced at his watch. It was twenty minutes to
one—just an hour since the household had retired to
rest. Not a sound broke the stillness, except for the
far-off ticking of a clock somewhere.

Somehow or other, Jimmy did not much care for that
sound. It recalled things. Gerald Wade—and those
seven ticking clocks on the mantelpiece. . . . Whose
hand had placed them there, ard why? He shivered.

It was a creepy business, this waiting. He didn’t
wonder that things happened at spiritualistic séances.
Sitting in the gloom, one got all worked up—ready to
start at the least sound. And unpleasant thoughts
came crowding in on a fellow.

Ronny Devereux! Ronny Devereux and Gerry
Wade! Both young, both full of life and energy; ordi-
nary, jolly, healthy young men. And now, where were
they? Dank earth ... worms getting them....
Ugh! why couldn’t he put these horrible thoughts out
of his mind?

He looked again at his watch. Twenty minutes past
one only. How the time crawled.

Extraordinary girl, Bundle! Fancy having the nerve
and the daring actually to get into the midst of that
Seven Dials place. Why hadn’t he had the nerve and
the initiative to think of that? He supposed penance
the thing was so fantastic.

JIMMY’S ADVENTURES 169

No. 7. Who the hell could No. 7 be? Was he, per-
haps, in the house at this minute? Disguised as a
servant. He couldn’t, surely, be one of the guests.
No, that was impossible. But then, the whole thing
was impossible. If he hadn’t believed Bundle to be
essentially truthful—well, he would have thought she
had invented the whole thing.

He yawned. Queer, to feel sleepy, and yet at the
same time strung up. He looked again at his watch.
Ten minutes to two. Time was getting on.

And then, suddenly, he held his breath and leaned
forward, listening. He had heard something.

The minutes went past. ... There it was again.
The creak of a board. . . . But it came from down-
stairs somewhere. There it was again! A slight, omi-
nous creak. Somebody was moving stealthily about the
house.

Jimmy sprang noiselessly to his feet. He crept
silently to the head of the staircase. Everything
seemed perfectly quiet. Yet he was quite certain he
had really heard that stealthy sound. It was not
imagination.

Very quietly and cautiously he crept down the stair-
case, Leopold clasped tightly in his right hand. Nota
sound in the big hall. If he had been correct in assum-
ing that the muffled sound came from directly beneath
him, then it must have come from the library.

Jimmy stole to the door of it, listened, but heard
nothing; then, suddenly flinging open the door, he
switched on the lights.

Was and

170 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Nothing! The big room was flooded with light.
But it was empty.

Jimmy frowned.

“T could have sworn—” he murmured to himself.

The library was a large room with three windows
which opened on to the terrace. Jimmy strode across
the room. The middle window was unlatched.

He opened it and stepped out on the terrace, looking
from end to end of it. Nothing!

“Looks all right,” he murmured to himself. “And
yet”

He remained for a minute lost in thought. Then
he stepped back into the library. Crossing to the door,
he locked it and put the key in his pocket. Then he
switched off the light. He stood for a minute listening,
then crossed softly to the open window and stood there,
Leopold ready in his hand.

Was there, or was there not, a soft patter of feet
along the terrace? No—his imagination. He grasped
Leopold tightly and stood listening. . . .

In the distance a stable clock chimed two.

a

CHAPTER XIX
BUNDLE’S ADVENTURES

BUNDLE BRENT was a resourceful girl—she was also a
girl of imagination. She had foreseen that Bill, if not
Jimmy, would make objections to her participation in
the possible dangers of the night. It was not Bundle’s
idea to waste time in argument. She had laid her own
plans and made her own arrangements. A glance from
her bedroom window shortly before dinner had been
highly satisfactory. She had known that the gray walls
of the Abbey were plentifully adorned with ivy, but the
ivy outside her window was particularly solid looking
and would present no difficulties to one of her athletic
propensities,

She had no fault to find with Bill’s and Jimmy’s ar-
rangements as far as they went. But in her opinion
they did not go far enough. She offered no criticism,
because she intended to see to that side of things her-
self. Briefly, while Jimmy and Bill were devoting
themselves to the inside of the Abbey, Bundle intended
to devote her attentions to the outside.

Her own meek acquiescence in the tame réle assigned
to her gave her an infinity of pleasure, though she won-
dered scornfully how either of the two men could be
so easily deceived. Bill, of course, had never been

famous for scintillating brain power. On the other
171

172 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

hand, he knew, or should know, his Bundle. And she
considered that Jimmy Thesiger, though only slightly
acquainted with her, ought to have known better than
to imagine that she could be so easily and summarily
disposed of.

Once in the privacy of her own room, Bundle set
rapidly to work. First she discarded her evening dress
and the negligible trifle which she wore beneath it,
and started again, so to speak, from the foundations.
Bundle had not brought her maid with her, and she her-
self had packed. Otherwise, the puzzled Frenchwoman
might have wondered why her lady took a pair of riding
breeches and no further equine equipment.

Arrayed in riding breeches, rubber-soled shoes, and
a dark-coloured pullover, Bundle was ready for the
fray. She glanced at the time. As yet, it was only;
half-past twelve. Too early by far. Whatever was
going to happen would not happen for some time yet.
The occupants of the house must all be given time to
get off to sleep. Half past one was the time fixed by
Bundle for the start of operations.

She switched off her light and sat down by the win-
dow to wait. Punctually at the appointed moment, —
she rose, pushed up the sash and swung her leg over the
sill. The night was a fine one, cold and still. There
was starlight but no moon.

She found the descent very easy. Bundle and her
two sisters had run wild in the park at Chimneys as
small children, and they could all climb like cats.

BUNDLE’S ADVENTURES 173

Bundle arrived on a flower-bed, rather breathless, but
quite unscathed. ;

She paused a minute to take stock of her plans. She
knew that the rooms occupied by the Air Minister and
his secretary were in the west wing; that was the oppo-
site side of the house from where Bundle was now
standing. A terrace ran along the south and west side
of the house, ending abruptly against a walled fruit
garden.

Bundle stepped out of her flower-bed and turned the
corner of the house to where the terrace began on the
south side. She crept very quietly along it, keeping
close to the shadow of the house. But, as she reached
the second corner, she got a shock, for a man was stand-
ing there, with the clear intention of barring her way.

The next instant she had recognized him.

“Superintendent Battle! You did give me a fright!”

“That’s what I’m here for,” said the Superintendent
pleasantiy.

Bundle looked at him. It struck her now, as so often
before, how remarkably little camouflage there was
about him. He was large and solid and noticeable. He
was, somehow, very English. But of one thing Bundle
was quite sure. Superintendent Battle was no fool.

“What are you really doing here?” she asked, still in
a whisper.

“Just seeing,” said Battle, “that nobody’s about who
shouldn’t be.”

“Oh!” said Bundle, rather taken aback.

174 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“You, for instance, Lady Eileen. I don’t suppose
you usually take a walk at this time of night.”

‘Do you mean,” said Bundle slowly, “that you want
me to go back?”

Superintendent Battle nodded approvingly.

“You're very quick, Lady Eileen. That’s just what
I do mean. Did you—er—come out of a door, or the
“window?”

“The window. It’s easy as anything climbing down
this ivy.”

Superintendent Battle looked up at it thoughtfully.

“Yes,” he said. “I should say it would be.”

“And you want me to go back?” said Bundle. “I’m
rather sick about that. I wanted to go round on to the
west terrace.”

“Perhaps you won’t be the only one who’ll want to do
that,” said Battle.

“Nobody could miss seeing you,” said Bundle rather
spitefully.

The Superintendent seemed rather pleased than
otherwise.

“T hope they won’t,” he said. “No unpleasantness.
That’s my motto. And if you'll excuse me, Lady
Eileen, I think it’s time you were going back to bed.”

The firmness of his tone admitted of no parley.
Rather crestfallen, Bundle retraced her steps. She was
half-way up the ivy when a sudden idea occurred to
her, and she nearly relaxed her grip and fell.

Supposing Superintendent Battle suspected her.

There had been something—yes, surely there had

BUNDLE’S ADVENTURES 175

been something in his manner that vaguely suggested
the idea. She couldn’t help laughing as she crawled
over the sill into her bedroom. Fancy the solid Super-
intendent suspecting her!

Though she had so far obeyed Battle’s orders as
to return to her room, Bundle had no intention of going
to bed and sleeping. Nor did she think that Battle had
really intended her to do so. He was not a man to ex-
pect impossibilities. And to remain quiescent when
something daring and exciting might be going on was a
sheer impossibility to Bundle.

She glanced at her watch. It was ten minutes to two.
After a moment or two of irresolution, she cautiously
opened her door. Not asound. Everything was still
and peaceful. She stole cautiously along the passage.

Once she halted, thinking she heard a board creak
somewhere, but then convinced that she was mistaken,
she went on again. She was now in the main corridor,
making her way to the west wing. She reached the
angle of intersection and peered cautiously round—
then she stared in blank surprise.

The watcher’s post was empty. Jimmy Thesiger was
not there.

Bundle stared in complete amazement. What had
happened? Why had Jimmy left his post? What did
it mean? .

And at that moment she heard a clock strike two.

She was still standing there, debating what to do
next, when suddenly her heart gave a leap and then
seemed to stand still.

176 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

The door handle of Terence O’Rourke’s room was
slowly turning.

Bundle watched, fascinated. But the door did not
open. Instead the knob returned slowly to its original
position. What did it mean?

Suddenly Bundle came to a resolution. Jimmy, for
some unknown reason, had deserted his post. She must
get hold of Bill.

Quickly and noiselessly, Bundle fled along the way
she had come. She burst unceremoniously into Bill’s
room.

“Bill, wake up! Oh, do wake up!”

It was an urgent whisper she sent forth, but there
came no response to it.

“Bill,” breathed Bundle.

Impatiently she switched on the lights, and then
stood dumfounded.

The room was empty, and the bed had not even been
slept in.

Where then was Bill?

Suddenly she caught her breath. This was not Bill’s
room. ‘The dainty négligé thrown over a chair, the
feminine knick-knacks on the dressing-table, the black
velvet evening dress thrown carelessly over a chair—
Of course, in her haste she had mistaken the doors.
This was the Countess Radzky’s room.

But where, oh, where, was the Countess?

And just as Bundle was asking herself this question,
the silence of the night was suddenly broken, and in no
uncertain manner.

BUNDLE’S ADVENTURES 177

The clamour came from below. In an instant
Bundle had sped out of the Countess’s room and down-
stairs. The sounds came from the library—a violent
crashing of chairs being overturned.

Bundle rattled vainly at the library door. It was
locked. But she could clearly hear the struggle that
was going on within—the panting and scuffling, curses
in manly tones, the occasional crash as some light piece
of furniture came into the line of battle.

And then, sinister and distinct, breaking the peace of
the night for good and all, two shots in rapid succession.

CHAPTER XX
LORAINE’S ADVENTURES

LoraINe WanpE sat up in bed and switched on the light.
It was exactly ten minutes to one. She had gone to
bed early—at half-past nine. She possessed the useful
art of being able to wake herself up at the required
time, so she had been able to enjoy some hours of re-
freshing sleep.

Two dogs slept in the room with her, and one of these
now raised his head and looked at her inquiringly.

“Quiet, Lurcher,” said Loraine, and the big animal
put his head down again obediently, watching her from
between his shaggy eyelashes.

It is true that Bundle had once doubted the meekness
of Loraine Wade, but that brief moment of suspicion
had passed. Loraine had seemed so entirely reason-
able, so willing to be kept out of everything.

And yet, if you studied the girl’s face, you saw that
there was strength of purpose in the small, resolute jaw
and the lips that closed together so firmly.

Loraine rose and dressed herself in a tweed coat and
skirt. Into one pocket of the coat she dropped an
electric torch. Then she opened the drawer of her
dressing table and took out a small ivory-handled pistol
—almost a toy in appearance. She had bought it the

178

LORAINE’S ADVENTURES 179

day before at Harrods and she was very pleased with
it.

She gave a final glance round the room to see if,she
had forgotten anything, and at that moment the big
dog rose and came over to her, looking up at her with
pleading eyes and wagging his tail.

Loraine shook her head.

“No, Lurcher. Can’t go. Missus can’t take you.
Got to stay here and be a good boy.”

She dropped a kiss on the dog’s head, made him lie
down on his rug again, and then slipped noiselessly out
of the room, closing the door behind her.

She let herself out of the house by a side door and
made her way round to the garage, where her little two-
seater car was in readiness. There was a gentle slope,
and she let the car run silently down it, not starting
the engine till she was some way from the house. Then
she glanced at the watch on her arm and pressed her
foot down on the accelerator.

She left the car at a spot she had previously marked
down. There was a gap there in the fencing that she
could easily get through. A few minutes later, slightly
muddy, Loraine stood inside the grounds of Wyvern
Abbey.

As noiselessly as possible, she made her way towards
the venerable ivy-covered building. In the distance a
stable clock chimed two.

Loraine’s heart beat faster as she drones near to the
terrace. There was no one about—no sign of life any-
where. Everything seemed peaceful and undisturbed.

180 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

She reached the terrace and stood there, looking about
her.

Suddenly, without the least warning, something from
above fell with a flop almost at her feet. Loraine
stooped to pick it up. It was a brown paper packet,
loosely wrapped. Holding it, Loraine looked up.

There was an open window just above her head, and
even as she looked a leg swung over it and a man began
to climb down the ivy.

Loraine waited for no more. She took to her heels
and ran, still clasping the brown paper packet.

Behind her, the noise of a struggle suddenly broke
out. A hoarse voice: “Lemme go”; another that she
knew well: “Not if I know it—ah, you would, would
you?”

Still Loraine ran—blindly, as though panic stricken
—tright round the corner of the terrace—and slap into
the arms of a large, solidly built man.

“There, there,” said Superintendent Battle kindly.

Loraine was struggling to speak.

“Oh, quick—oh, quick! They’re killing each other.
Oh, do be quick!”

There was a sharp crack of a revolver shot—and
then another.

Superintendent Battle started to run. Loraine fol-
lowed. Back round the corner of the terrace and along
to the library window. The window was open.

Battle stooped and switched on an electric torch.
Loraine was close beside him, peering over his shoul-
der. She gave a little sobbing gasp.

LORAINE’S ADVENTURES 181

On the threshold of the window lay Jimmy Thesiger
in what looked like a pool of blood. His right arm lay
dangling in a curious position.

Loraine gave a sharp cry.

“He’s dead,” she wailed. “Oh, Jimmy—Jimmy—
he’s dead!”

“Now, now,” said Superintendent Battle soothingly,
“don’t you take on so. The young gentleman isn’t
dead, I'll be bound. See if you can find the lights and
turn them on.”

Loraine obeyed. She stumbled across the room,
found the switch by the door and pressed it down. The
room was flooded with light. Superintendent Battle
uttered a sigh of relief.

“Tt’s all right—he’s only shot in the right arm. He’s
fainted through loss of blood. Come and give me a
hand with him.”

There was a pounding on the library door. Voices
were heard, asking, expostulating, demanding.

Loraine looked doubtfully at it.

“Shall I—”

“No hurry,” said Battle. ‘We'll let them in pres-
ently. You come and give me a hand.”

Loraine came obediently. The Superintendent had
produced a large, clean pocket-handkerchief and was
neatly bandaging the wounded man’s arm. Loraine
helped him.

“He'll be all right,” said the Sriseinieddent: “Don’t
you worry. As many lives as cats, these young fellows.
It wasn’t the loss of blood knocked him out either. He

182 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

must have caught his head a crack on the floor as he
fell.”

Outside the knocking on the door had become tre-
mendous. The voice of George Lomax, furiously up-
raised, came loud and distinct:

“Who is in there? Open the door at once.”

Superintendent Battle sighed.

“T suppose we shall have to,” he said. “A pity.”

His eyes darted round, taking in the scene. An
automatic lay by Jimmy’s side. The Superintendent
picked it up gingerly, holding it very delicately and
examined it. He grunted and laid it on the table.
Then he stepped across and unlocked the door.

Several people almost fell into the room. Nearly
everybody said something at the same minute. George
Lomax, spluttering with obdurate words which refused
to come with sufficient fluency, exclaimed:

“‘The—the—the meaning of this? Ah! It’s you,
Superintendent. What’s happened? I say—what has
—happened?”

Bill Eversleigh said: “My God! Old Jimmy!” and
stared at the limp figure on the ground.

Lady Coote, clad in a resplendent purple dressing
gown, cried out: “The poor boy!” and swept past Su-
perintendent Battle to bend over the prostrate Jimmy
in a motherly fashion.

Bundle said: “Loraine!”

Herr Eberhard said: “Gott im Himmel!” and other
words of that nature.

Sir Stanley Digby said: ‘““My God, what’s all this?”

LORAINE’S ADVENTURES 183

A housemaid said: “Look at the blood,” and
screamed with pleasurable excitement.

A footman said: “Lor!”

The butler said, with a good deal more bravery in his
manner than had been noticeable a few minutes earlier:
“Now then, this won’t do!” and waved away under-
servants.

The efficient Mr. Rupert Bateman said to George:
“Shall we get rid of some of these people, sir?”

Then they all took fresh breath.

“Incredible!” said George Lomax. ‘Battle, what has
happened?” .

Battle gave him a look, and George’s discreet habits
assumed their usual sway.

“Now then,” he said, moving to the door, ‘“‘everyone
go back to bed, please. There’s been a—er—”

“‘A little accident,” said Superintendent Battle easily.

““A—er—an accident. I shall be much obliged if
everyone will go back to bed.”

Everyone was clearly reluctant to do so.

“Lady Coote—please—”

“The poor boy,” said Lady Coote in a motherly
fashion.

She rose from a kneeling position with great reluc-
tance. And as she did so, Jimmy stirred and sat up.

“Hallo!” he said thickly. ‘“What’s the matter?”

He looked round him vacantly for a minute or two
and then intelligence returned to his eye.

“Fave you got him?” he demanded eagerly.

“Got who?”

184 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“The man. Climbed down the ivy. I was by the
window there. Grabbed him and we had no end of a
set-to—”

“One of those nasty, murderous cat burglars,” said
Lady Coote. “Poor boy.”

Jimmy was looking round him.

“T say—I’m afraid we—er—have made rather a mess
of things. Fellow was as strong as an ox and we went
fairly waltzing around.”

The condition of the room was clear proof of this
statement. Everything light and breakable within a
range of twelve feet that could be broken ad been
broken.

“And what happened then?”

But Jimmy was looking round for something.

‘“Where’s Leopold? The pride of the blue-nosed
automatics.”

Battle indicated the pistol on the table.

“Ts this yours, Mr. Thesiger?”

“That’s right. That’s little Leopold. How many
shots have been fired?”

“One shot.”

Jimmy looked chagrined.

“T’m disappointed in Leopold,” he murmured. “I
can’t have pressed the button properly, or he’d have
gone on shooting.”

“Who shot first?”

“I did, I’m afraid,” said Jimmy. “You see, the
man twisted himself out of my grasp suddenly. I saw
him making for the window and I closed my finger

ln

LORAINE’S ADVENTURES 185

down on Leopold and let him have it. He turned in
the window and fired at me and—well, I suppose after
that I took the count.”

He rubbed his head rather ruefully.

But Sir Stanley Digby was suddenly alert.

“Climbing down the ivy, you said? My God, Lo-
max, you don’t think they’ve got away with it?”

He rushed from the room. For some curious reason
nobody spoke during his absence. In a few minutes
Sir Stanley returned. His round, chubby face was
white as death.

“My God, Battle,’ he said, “they’ve got it.
O’Rourke’s fast asleep—drugged, I think. I can’t
wake him. And the papers have vanished.”

CHAPTER XXI
THE RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA

“Der liebe Gott!” said Herr Eberhard in a whisper.

His face had gone chalky white.

George turned a face of dignified reproach on Battle.

“Ts this true, Battle? I left all arrangements in
your hands.”

The rock-like quality of the Superintendent showed
out well. Not a muscle of his face moved.

“The best of us are defeated sometimes, sir,’”’ he
said quietly.

“Then you mean—you really mean—that the docu-
ment is gone?”

But to everyone’s intense surprise Superintendent
Battle shook his head.

“No, no, Mr. Lomax, it’s not so bad as you think.
Everything’s all right. But you can’t lay the credit for
it at my door. You’ve got to thank this young lady.”

He indicated Loraine, who stared at him in surprise.
Battle stepped across to her and gently took the brown
paper parcel which she was still clutching mechanically.

“T think, Mr. Lomax,” he said, “that you will find
what you want here.”

Sir Stanley Digby, quicker in action than George,
snatched at the package and tore it open, investigating
its contents eagerly. A sigh of relief escaped him and

he mopped his brow. Herr Eberhard fell upon the
186

RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA 187

child of his brain and clasped it to his heart, whilst a
torrent of German burst from him. ;

Sir Stanley turned to Loraine, shaking her warmly by
the hand.

“My dear young lady,” he said, “we are infinitely
obliged to you, I am sure.”

“Yes, indeed,” said George. “Though I—er—”

He paused in some perplexity, staring at a young
lady who was a total stranger to him. Loraine looked
appealingly at Jimmy, who came to the rescue.

“Er—this is Miss Wade,” said Jimmy. “Gerald
Wade’s sister.” ,

“Indeed,” said George, shaking her warmly by the
hand. “My dear Miss Wade, I must express my deep
gratitude to you for what you have done. I must
confess that I do not quite see—”

He paused delicately and four of the persons present
felt that explanations were going to be fraught with
much difficulty. Superintendent Battle came to the
rescue.

“Perhaps we’d better not go into that just now, sir,”
he suggested tactfully.

The efficient Mr. Bateman created a further diver-
sion.

“Wouldn’t it be wise for someone to see to
O’Rourke? Don’t you think, sir, that a doctor had
better be sent for?”

“Of course,” said George. ‘Ofcourse. Most remiss
of us not to have thought of it before.” He looked
towards Bill. “Get Dr. Cartwright on. the telephone.

188 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Ask him to come. Just hint, if you can, that—er—dis-
cretion should be observed.”

Bill went off on his errand.

“T will come up with you, Digby,” said George.
“Something, possibly, could be done—measures should,
perhaps, be taken—whilst awaiting the arrival of the
doctor.”

He looked rather helplessly at Rupert Bateman.
Efficiency always makes itself felt. It was Pongo who
was really in charge of the situation.

“Shall I come up with you, sir?”

George accepted the offer with relief. Here, he felt,
was someone on whom he could lean. He experienced
that sense of complete trust in Mr. Bateman’s efficiency
which came to all those who encountered that excellent
young man.

The three men left the room together. Lady Coote,
murmuring in deep rich tones: “The poor young fellow.
Perhaps I could do something—” hurried after them.

“That’s a very motherly woman,” observed the Su-
perintendent thoughtfully. “A very motherly woman.
I wonder—”

Three pairs of eyes looked at him inquiringly.

“TI was wondering,” said Superintendent Battle
slowly, “where Sir Oswald Coote may be.”

“Oh!” gasped Loraine. “Do you think he’s been
murdered?”

Battle shook his head at her reproachfully.

“No need for anything so melodramatic,” he said.
“No—I rather think—”

RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA 189

He paused, his head on one side, listening—one large
hand raised to enjoin silence.

In another minute they all heard what his sharper
ears had been the first to notice—footsteps coming
along the terrace outside. They rang out clearly with
no kind of subterfuge about them. In another minute
the window was blocked by a bulky figure which stood
there regarding them and who conveyed, in an odd
way, a sense of dominating the situation.

Sir Oswald, for it was he, looked slowly from one
face to another. His keen eyes took in the details of
the situation. Jimmy, with his roughly bandaged arm;
Bundle, in her somewhat anomalous attire; Loraine, a
perfect stranger to him. His eyes came last to Super-
intendent Battle. He spoke sharply and crisply:

““What’s been happening here, officer?”

“Attempted robbery, sir.”

“Attempted—eh?”

“Thanks to this young lady, Miss Wade, the thieves
failed to get away with it.”

“Ah!” he said again, his scrutiny ended. “And now,
officer, what about this?”

He held out a small Mauser pistol which he carried
delicately by the butt.

“Where did you find that, Sir Oswald?”

“On the lawn outside. I presume it must have been
thrown down by one of the thieves as he took to his
heels. I’ve held it carefully, as I thought you might
wish to examine it for finger-prints.”

“You think of everything, Sir Oswald,” said Battle.

T90 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

He took the pistol from the other, handling it with
equal care, and laid it down on the table beside Jimmy’s
Colt.

“And now, if you please,” said Sir Oswald, “I should
like to hear exactly what occurred.”

Superintendent Battle gave a brief résumé of the
events of the night. Sir Oswald frowned thoughtfully.

“T understand,” he said sharply. “After wounding
and disabling Mr. Thesiger, the man took to his heels
and ran, throwing away the pistol as he did so. What I
cannot understand is why no one pursued him.”

“Tt wasn’t till we heard Mr. Thesiger’s story that we
knew there was anyone to pursue,” remarked Super-
intendent Battle dryly.

“You didn’t—er—catch sight of him making off as
you turned the corner of the terrace?”

“No, I missed him by just about forty seconds, I
should say. There’s no moon and he’d be invisible as
soon as he’d left the terrace. He must have leapt for it
as soon as he’d fired the shot.”

“H’m,” said Sir Oswald. “I still think that a search
should have been organized. Someone else should have
been posted—”

“There are three of my men in the grounds,” said
the Superintendent quietly.

“Oh!” Sir Oswald seemed rather taken aback.

“They were to hold and detain any one attempting
to leave the grounds.”

“And yet—they haven’t done so?”

RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA 191

“And yet they haven’t done so,” agreed Battle
gravely. :

Sir Oswald looked at him as though something in
the words puzzled him. He said sharply:

“Are you telling me all that you know, Superin-
tendent Battle?”

“All that I know—yes, Sir Oswald. What I think is
a different matter. Maybe I think some rather curious
things—but until thinking’s got you somewhere it’s
no use talking about it.”

“And yet,” said Sir Oswald slowly, “I should like to
know what you think, Superintendent Battle.”

“For one thing, sir, I think there’s a lot too much
ivy about this place—excuse me, sir, you’ve got a bit
on your coat—yes, a great deal too much ivy. It com-
plicates things.”

Sir Oswald stared at him, but any reply he might
have contemplated making was arrested by the en-
trance of Rupert Bateman.

“Oh, there you are, Sir Oswald. I’m so glad. Lady
Coote has just discovered that you were missing—and
she has been insisting upon it that you had been mur-
dered by the thieves. I really think, Sir Oswald, that
you had better come to her at once. She is terribly
upset.”

“Maria is an incredibly foolish woman,” said Sir
Oswald. “Why should I be murdered? I’ll come with
you, Bateman.”

He left the room with his secretary.

“That’s a very efficient young man,” said Battle,

192 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

looking after them. ‘“What’s his name—Bateman?”

Jimmy nodded.

“Bateman—Rupert,” he said. “Commonly known
as Pongo. I was at school with him.”

“Were you? Now, that’s interesting, Mr. Thesiger.
What was your opinion of him in those days?”

“Oh, he was always the same sort of ass.”

“T shouldn’t have thought,” said Battle mildly, “that
he was an ass.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Of course he wasn’t
really an ass. Tons of brains and always swotting at
things. But deadly serious. No sense of humour.”

“Ah!” said Superintendent Battle. ‘“That’s a pity.
Gentlemen who have no sense of humour get to taking
themselves too seriously—and that leads to mischief,”

“T can’t imagine Pongo getting into mischief,” said
Jimmy. “He’s done extremely well for himself so far—
dug himself in with old Coote and looks like being a
permanency in the job.”

“Superintendent Battle,” said Bundle.

“Yes, Lady Eileen?”

“Don’t you think it very odd that Sir Oswald didn’t
say what he was doing wandering about in the garden
in the middle of the night?”

“Ah!” said Battle. “Sir Oswald’s a great man—
and a great man always knows better than to explain
unless an explanation is demanded. To rush into ex-
planations and excuses is always a sign of weakness.
Sir Oswald knows that as well as I do. He’s not
going to come in explaining and apologizing—not he.

RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA 193

He just stalks in and hauls me over the coals. He’s a
big man, Sir Oswald.”

Such a warm admiration sounded in the Superin-
tendent’s tones that Bundle pursued the subject no
further.

“And now,” said Superintendent Battle, looking
round with a slight twinkle in his eye, “now that we’re
together and friendly like—I skould like to hear just
how Miss Wade happened to arrive on the scene so
pat.”

“She ought to be ashamed of herself,” said Jimmy.
“Hoodwinking us all as she did.”

“Why should I be kept out of it all?” cried Loraine
passionately. “I never meant to be—no, not the very
first day in your rooms when you both explained how
the best thing for me to do was to stay quietly at home
and keep out of danger. I didn’t say anything, but I
made up my mind then.”

“T half suspected it,” said Bundle. ‘You were so
surprisingly meek about it. I might have known you
were up to something.”

“TJ thought you were remarkably sensible,” said’
Jimmy Thesiger.

“You would, Jimmy sowed said Loraine. “It was
easy enough to deceive you.”

“Thank you for these kind words,” Said Jimmy.
“Go on, and don’t mind me.”

“When you rang up and said there might be danger,
I was more determined than ever,” went on Loraine.
“T went to Harrods and I bought a pistol. Here it is.”

194 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

She produced the dainty weapon, and Superintendent
Battle took it from her and examined it.

“Quite a deadly little toy, Miss Wade,” he said.
“Have you had much—er—practice with it?”

“None at all,” said Loraine. “But I thought if I
took it with me—well, that it would give me a com-
forting feeling.”

“Quite so,” said Battle gravely.

“My idea was to come over here and see what was
going on. I left the car in the road and climbed
through the hedge and came up to the terrace. I was
just looking about me when—plop—something fell
right at my feet. I picked it up and then looked to see
where it could have come from. And then I saw the
man climbing down the ivy and I ran.”

“Just so,” said Battle. “Now, Miss Wade, can you
describe that man at all?”

The girl shook her head.

“It was too dark to see much. I think he was a big
man—but that’s about all.”

“And now. you, Mr. Thesiger.” Battle turned to
him. “You struggled with the man—can you tell me
anything about him?”

“He was a pretty hefty individual—that’s all I can
say. He gave a few hoarse whispers—that’s when I
had him by the throat. He said, ‘Lemme go, guvnor,’
something like that.”

“An uneducated man, then?”

“Yes, I suppose he was. He spoke like one.”

“T still don’t quite understand about the packet,” said

RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA 195

Loraine. “Why should he throw it down as he did?
Was it because it hampered him climbing?”

“No,” said Battle. “I’ve got an entirely different
theory about that. That packet, Miss Wade, was delib-
erately thrown down to you—or so I believe.”

STO me pe

“Shall we say—to the person the thief thought you
were.”

“This is getting very involved,” said Jimmy.

“Mr. Thesiger, when you came into this room, did
you switch on the light at all?”

eVes??

“And there was no one in the room?”

“No one at all.”

“But previously you thought you heard someone
moving about down here?”

Ves:

“And then, after trying the window, you switched
off the light again and locked the door?”

Jimmy nodded.

Superintendent Battle looked slowly round him. His
glance was arrested by a big screen of Spanish leather
which stood near one of the bookcases.

Brusquely he strode across the room and looked be-
hind it.

He uttered a sharp ejaculation, which brought the
three young people quickly to his side. ;

Huddled on the floor, in a dead faint, lay the Count-
ess Radzky.

CHAPTER XXII
THE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY

Tuer Countess’s return to consciousness was very dif-
ferent from that of Jimmy Thesiger. It was more
prolonged and infinitely more artistic.

Artistic was Bundle’s word. She had been zealous
in her ministrations—largely consisting of the appli-
cation of cold water—and the Countess had instantly
responded, passing a white, bewildered hand across
her brow and murmuring faintly.

It was at this point that Bill, at last relieved from
his duties with telephone and doctors, had come bus-
tling into the room and had instantly proceeded to
make (in Bundle’s opinion) a most regrettable idiot of
himself.

He had hung over the Countess with a concerned
and anxious face and had addressed a series of sin-
gularly idiotic remarks to her:

“T say, Countess. It’s all right. It’s really all right.
Don’t try to talk. It’s bad for you. Just lie still.
You'll be all right in a minute. It’ll all come back to
you. Don’t say anything till you’re quite all right.
Take your time. Just lie still and close your eyes.
You'll remember everything in a minute. Have
another sip of water. Have some brandy. That’s

196

THE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY 197

the stuff. Don’t you think, Bundle, that some
brandy ... ?” ;

“For God’s sake, Bill, leave her alone,” said Bundle
crossly. ‘She'll be all right.”

And with an expert hand she flipped a good deal of
cold water on to the exquisite make-up of the Coun-
tess’s face.

The Countess flinched and sat up. She looked con-
siderably more wide awake.

“Ah!” she murmured. “I am here. Yes, I am
here.”

“Take your time,” said Bill. “Don’t talk till you
feel quite all right again.”

The Countess drew the folds of a very transparent
négligé closer around her.

“Tt is coming back to me,” she murmured. “Yes, it
is coming back.”

She looked at the little crowd grouped around her.
Perhaps something in the attentive faces struck her as
unsympathetic. In any case she smiled deliberately
up at the one face which clearly displayed a very oppo-
site emotion.

“Ah, my big Englishman,” she said very softly, “do
not distress yourself. All is well with me.”

“Oh! I say, but are you sure?” demanded Bill
anxiously.

“Quite sure.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “We
Hungarians, we have nerves of steel.”

A look of intense relief passed over Bill’s face. A

198 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

fatuous look settled down there instead—a look which
made Bundle earnestly long to kick him.

“Have some water,” she said coldly.

The Countess refused water. Jimmy, kindlier to
beauty in distress, suggested a cocktail. The Countess
reacted favourably to this suggestion. When she had
swallowed it, she looked round once more, this time
with a livelier eye.

“Tell me, what has happened?” she demanded
briskly.

“We were hoping you might be able to tell us that,”
said Superintendent Battle.

The Countess looked at him sharply. She seemed to

become aware of the big, quiet man for the first time.

“IT went to your room,” said Bundle. “The bed
hadn’t been slept in and you weren’t there.”

She paused—looking accusingly at the Countess.
The latter closed her eyes and nodded her head slowly.

“Yes, yes, I remember it all now. Oh, it was horri-
ble!” She shuddered. “Do you want me to tell you?”

Superintendent Battle said, “If you please” at the
same moment that Bill said, “Not if you don’t feel up
to it.”

The Countess looked from one to the other, but the
quiet, masterful eye of Superintendent Battle won the
game.

“T could not sleep,” began the Countess. ‘The
house—it oppressed me. I was all, as you say, on
wires, the cat on the hot bricks. I knew that in the
state I was in it was useless to think of going to bed.

THE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY 199

I walked about my room. I read. But the books
placed there did not interest me greatly. I thought I
would come down here and find something more ab-
sorbing.”

“Very natural,” said Bill.

“Very often done, I believe,” said Battle.

“So as soon as the idea occurred to me, I left my
room and came down. The house was very still—”

“Excuse me,” interrupted the Superintendent, “but
can you give me an idea of the time when this oc-
curred?”

“T never know the time,” said the Countess superbly,
and swept on with her story.

“The house was very quiet. One could even hear
the little mouse run, if there had been one. I come
down the stairs—very quietly—”

“Very quietly?”

“Naturally I do not want to disturb the household,”
said the Countess reproachfully. “I come in here. I
go into this corner and I search the shelves for a suit-
able book.”

“Having, of course, switched on the light?”

“No, I did not switch on the light. I had, you see,
my little electric torch with me. With that, I scanned
the shelves.”

“Ah!” said the Superintendent.

“Suddenly,” continued the Countess dramatically,
“T hear something. A stealthy sound. A muffled foot-
step. I switch out my torch and listen. The footsteps
draw nearer—stealthy, horrible footsteps, I shrink be-

200 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

hind the screen. In another minute the door opens and
the light is switched on. The man—the burglar is in
the room.”

“Ves, but I say—” began Mr. Thesiger.

A large-sized foot pressed his, and realizing that
Superintendent Battle was giving him a hint, Jimmy
shut up.

“T nearly died of fear,” continued the Countess. “I
tried not to breathe. The man waited for a minute,
listening. Then, still with that horrible, stealthy
tread—”

Again Jimmy opened his mouth in protest, and again
shut it.

“he crossed to the window and peered out. He re-
mained there for a minute or two, then he recrossed
the room and turned out the lights again, locking the
door. I am terrified. He is in the room, moving
stealthily about in the dark. Ah, it is horrible. Sup-
pose he should come upon me in the dark! In another
minute I hear him again by the window. Then silence.
I hope that perhaps he may have gone out that way.
As the minutes pass and I hear no further sound, I am
almost sure that he has done so. Indeed I am in the
very act of switching on my torch and investigating
when—?restissimo/—it all begins.”

“Ves p”

“Ah! But it was terrible—never—never shall I for-
get it! Two men trying to murder each other. Oh, it
was horrible! They reeled about the room, and furni-
ture crashed in every direction. I thought, too, that I

ee

THE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY 201

heard a woman scream—but that was not in the room.
It was outside somewhere. The criminal had a hoarse
voice. He croaked rather than spoke. He kept say-
ing, ‘Lemme go—lemme go.’ The other man was a gen-
tleman. He had a cultured, English voice.”

Jimmy looked gratified.

“He swore—mostly,” continued the Countess.

“Clearly a gentleman,” said Superintendent Battle.

“And then,” continued the Countess, “a flash and a
shot. The bullet hit the bookcase beside me. I—I
suppose I must have fainted.”

She looked up at Bill. He took her hand and patted
it.

“You poor dear,” he said. “How rotten for you.”

“Silly idiot,” thought Bundle.

Superintendent Battle had moved on swift, noise-
less feet over to the bookcase a little to the right of the
screen. He bent down, searching. Presently he
stooped and picked something up.

“Tt wasn’t a bullet, Countess,” he said. “It’s the
shell of the cartridge. Where were you standing when
you fired, Mr. Thesiger?”

Jimmy took up a position by the window.

“As nearly as I can say, about here.”

Superintendent Battle placed himself in the same
spot.

“That’s right,” he agreed. “The empty shell would
throw right rear. It’s a .455. I don’t wonder the
Countess thought it was a bullet in the dark. It hit the
bookcase about a foot from her. The bullet itself

202 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

grazed the window frame and we'll find it outside to-

morrow—unless your assailant happens to be carrying
it about in him.”

Jimmy shook his head regretfully.

“Leopold, I fear, did not cover himself with glory,”
he remarked sadly.

The Countess was looking at him with most flattering
attention.

“Your arm!” she exclaimed. “It is all tied up!
Was it you then—”

Jimmy made her a mock bow.

“I’m so glad I’ve got a cultured, English voice,” he
said. ‘And I can assure you that I wouldn’t have
dreamed of using the language I did if I had had any
suspicion that a lady was present.”

“T did not understand all of it,’ the Countess has-
tened to explain. ‘Although I had an English gov-
erness when I was young—”

“Tt isn’t the sort of thing she’d be likely to teach
you,” agreed Jimmy. “Kept you busy with your
uncle’s pen, and the umbrella of the gardener’s niece.
I know the sort of stuff.”

“But what has happened?” asked the Countess.
“That is what I want to know. I demand to know
what has happened.”

There was a moment’s silence whilst everybody
looked at Superintendent Battle.

“It’s very simple,” said Battle mildly. “Attempted
robbery. Some political papers stolen from Sir Stanley
Digby. The thieves nearly got away with them, but

ee

THE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY 203

thanks to this young lady”—he indicated Loraine—
“they didn’t.” ;

The Countess flashed a glance at the girl—rather an
odd glance.

“Indeed,” she said coldly.

“A very fortunate coincidence that she happened to
be there,” said Superintendent Battle, smiling.

The Countess gave a little sigh and half closed her
eyes again.

“Tt is absurd, but I still feel extremely faint,’ she
murmured.

“Of course you do,” cried Bill. “Let me help you
up to your room. Bundle will come with you.”

“Tt is very kind of Lady Eileen,” said the Countess,
“but I should prefer to be alone. I am really quite
all right. Perhaps you will just help me up the stairs?”

She rose to her feet, accepted Bill’s arm and, leaning
heavily on it, went out of the room. Bundle followed
as far as the hall but, the Countess reiterating her as-
surance—with some tartness—that she was quite all
right, she did not accompany them upstairs.

But as she stood watching the Countess’s graceful
form, supported by Bill, slowly mounting the stairway,
she stiffened suddenly to acute attention. The Count-
ess’s_négligé, as previously mentioned, was thin—a

mere veil of orange chiffon. Through it Bundle saw
distinctly below the right shoulder blade @ small black
mole.

With a gasp, Bundle swung impetuously round to
where Superintendent Battle was just.emerging from

204 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

the library. Jimmy and Loraine had preceded him.

“There,” said Battle. “I’ve fastened the window and
there will be a man on duty outside. And I'll lock
this door and take the key. In the morning we'll do
what the French call reconstruct the crime— Yes,
Lady Eileen, what is it?”

“Superintendent Battle, I must speak to you—at
once.”

“Why, certainly, I—”

George Lomax suddenly appeared, Dr. Cartwright
by his side.

“Ah, there you are, Battle. You'll be relieved to hear
that there’s nothing seriously wrong with O’Rourke.”

“T never thought there would be much wrong with
Mr. O’Rourke,” said Battle.

“He’s had a strong hypnotic administered to him,”
said the doctor. “He'll wake perfectly all right in the
morning. Perhaps a bit of a head, perhaps not. Now
then, young man, let’s look at this bullet wound of
yours.”

“Come on, nurse,” said Jimmy to Loraine. “Come
and hold the basin or my hand. Witness a strong
man’s agony. You know the stunt.”

Jimmy, Loraine and the doctor went off together.
Bundle continued to throw agonized glances in the di-
rection of Superintendent Battle, who had been button-
holed by George.

The Superintendent waited patiently till a pause oc-
curred in George’s loquacity. He then swiftly took
advantage of it.

THE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY 205

“T wonder, sir, if I might have a word privately with
Sir Stanley? In the little study at the end there.”

“Certainly,” said George. “Certainly. I'll go and
fetch him at once.”

He hurried off upstairs again. Battle drew Bundle
swiftly into the drawing-room and shut the door.

“Now, Lady Eileen, what is it?”

“T’ll tell you as quickly as I can—but it’s rather long
and complicated.”

As concisely as she could, Bundle related her intro-
duction to the Seven Dials Club and her subsequent
adventures there. When she had finished, Superintend-
ent Battle drew a long breath. For once, his facial
woodenness was laid aside.

“Remarkable,” he said. “Remarkable. I wouldn’t
have believed it possible—even for you, Lady Eileen.
I ought to have known better.”

“But you did give me a hint, Superintendent Battle.
You told me to ask Bill Eversleigh.”

“Tt’s dangerous to give people like you a hint, Lady
Eileen. I never dreamt of your going to the lengths
you have.”

“Well, it’s all right, Superintendent Battle. My
death doesn’t lie at your door.”

“Not yet, it doesn’t,” said Battle grimly.

He stood as though in thought, turning things over
in his mind.

“What Mr. Thesiger was about, letting you run into
danger like that, I can’t think,” he said presently.

“He didn’t know till afterwards,” said Bundle. “I’m

206 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

not a complete mug, Superintendent Battle. And, any-
way, he’s got his hands full looking after Miss Wade.”

“Ts that so?” said the Superintendent. “Ah!”

He twinkled a little.

“T shall have to detail Mr. Eversleigh to look after
you, Lady Eileen.”

“Bill!” said Bundle contemptuously. “But, Super-
intendent Battle, you haven’t heard the end of my
story. The woman I saw there—Anna—No. 1. Yes,
No. 1 is the Countess Radzky.”

And rapidly she went on to describe her recognition
of the mole.

To her surprise the Superintendent hemmed and
hawed.

“A mole isn’t much to go upon, Lady Eileen. Two
women might have an identical mole very easily. You
must remember that the Countess Radzky is a very
well-known figure in Hungary.”

“Then this isn’t the real Countess Radzky. I tell
you I’m sure this is the same woman I saw there. And
look at her to-night—the way we found her. I don’t
believe she ever fainted at all.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t say that, Lady Eileen. That empty
shell striking the bookcase beside her might have
frightened any woman half out of her wits.”

“But what was she doing there anyway? One
doesn’t come down to look for a book with an electric
torch.”

Battle scratched his cheek. He seemed unwilling to
speak. He began to pace up and down the room, as

THE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY 207

though making up his mind. At last ke turned to the
girl.

“See here, Lady Eileen, I’m going to trust you. The
Countess’s conduct 7s suspicious. I know that as well
as you do. It’s very suspicious—but we’ve got to go
carefully. There mustn’t be any unpleasantness with
the Embassies. One has got to be sure.”

“T.see. If you were sure .. .”

“There’s something else. During the war, Lady
Eileen, there was a great outcry about German spies
being left at large. Busybodies wrote letters to the
papers about it. We paid no attention. Hard words
didn’t hurt us. The small fry were left alone. Why?
Because through them, sooner or later, we got the big
fellow—the man at the top.”

“You mean?”

“Don’t bother about what I mean, Lady Eileen.
But remember this. J know all about the Countess.
And I want her let alone.

“And now,” added Superintendent Battle ruefully,
“T’ve got to think of something to say to Sir Stanley
Digby!”

CHAPTER XXIII
SUPERINTENDENT BATTLE IN CHARGE

Ir was ten o’clock on the following morning. The sun
poured in through the windows of the library, where
Superintendent Battle had been at work since six. On
a summons from him, George Lomax, Sir Oswald Coote
and Jimmy Thesiger had just joined him, having re-
paired the fatigues of the night with a substantial
breakfast. Jimmy’s arm was in a sling, but he bore
little other trace of the night’s affray.

The Superintendent eyed all three of them benevo-
lently, somewhat with the air of a kindly curator ex-
plaining a museum to little boys. On the table beside
him were various objects, neatly labelled. Amongst
them Jimmy recognized Leopold.

“Ah, Superintendent,” said George, “I have been
anxious to know how you have progressed. Have you
caught the man?”

“He'll take a lot of catching, he will,” said the Super-
intendent easily.

His failure in that respect did not appear to rankle
with him.

George Lomax did not look particularly well pleased.
He detested levity of any kind.

“I’ve got everything taped out pretty clearly,” went
on the detective.

208

BATTLE IN CHARGE 209

He took up two objects from the table.

“Here we’ve got the two bullets. The largest is a
455, fired from Mr. Thesiger’s Colt automatic. Grazed
the window sash and I found it embedded in the trunk
of that cedar tree. This little fellow was fired from
the Mauser .25. After passing through Mr. Thesiger’s
arm, it embedded itself in this arm chair here. As for
the pistol itseli—”

“Well?” said Sir Oswald eagerly. “Any finger-
prints?”

Battle shook his head.

“The man who handled it wore gloves,” he said
slowly.

“A pity,” said Sir Oswald.

“A man who knew his business would wear gloves.
Am I right in thinking, Sir Oswald, that you found this
pistol just about twenty yards from the bottom of the
steps leading up to the terrace?”

Sir Oswald stepped to the window.

“Yes, almost exactly, I should say.”

“T don’t want to find fault, but it would have been
wiser on your part, sir, to leave it exactly as you
found it.”

“T am sorry,” said Sir Oswald stiffly.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been able to reconstruct
things. There were your footprints, you see, leading
up from the bottom of the garden, and a place where
you had obviously stopped and stooped down, and a
kind of dent in the grass which was highly suggestive.

210 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

By the way, what was your theory of the pistol being
there?”

“T presumed that it had been dropped by the man in
his flight.”

Battle shook his head.

“Not dropped, Sir Oswald. There are two points
against that. To begin with, there is only one set of
footprints crossing the lawn just there—your own.”

“T see,” said Sir Oswald thoughtfully.

“Can you be sure of that, Battle?” put in George.

“Quite sure, sir. There is one other set of tracks
crossing the lawn, Miss Wade’s, but they are a good
deal farther to the left.”

He paused, and then went on: “And there’s the dent
in the ground. The pistol must have struck the ground
with some force. It all points to its having been
thrown.”

“Well, why not?” said Sir Oswald. ‘Say the man
fled down the path to the left. He’d leave no footprints
on the path and he’d hurl the pistol away from him
into the middle of the lawn, eh, Lomax?”

George agreed by a nod of the head.

“It’s true that he’d leave no footprints on the path,”
said Battle, “but from the shape of the dent and the
way the turf was cut, I don’t think the pistol was
thrown from that direction. I think it was thrown
from the terrace here.”

“Very likely,” said Sir Oswald. “Does it matter,
Superintendent?”

A
a —

—a
—~ *

ee

BATTLE IN CHARGE 211

“Ah, yes, Battle,” broke in George. “Is it—er—
strictly relevant?”

“Perhaps not, Mr. Lomax. But we like t to get things
just so, you know. I wonder now if one of you gen-
tlemen would take this pistol and throw it. Will you,
Sir Oswald? That’s very kind. Stand just here in
the window. Now fling it into the middle of the
lawn.”

Sir Oswald complied, sending the pistol flying through
the air with a powerful sweep of his arm. Jimmy
Thesiger drew near with breathless interest. The
Superintendent lumbered off after it like a well-trained
retriever. He reappeared with a beaming face.

“That’s it, sir. Just the same kind of mark. Al-
though, by the way, you sent it a good ten yards far-
ther. But then, you’re a very powerfully built man,
aren’t you, Sir Oswald? Excuse me, I thought I heard
someone at the door.”

The Superintendent’s ears must have been very much
sharper than anyone else’s. Nobody else had heard a
sound, but Battle was proved right, for Lady Coote
stood outside, a medicine glass in her hand.

“Your medicine, Oswald,” she said, advancing into
the room. “You forgot it after breakfast.”

“T’m very busy, Maria,” said Sir Oswald. “I don’t
want my medicine.”

“You would never take it if it wasn’t for me,’ said
his wife serenely, advancing upon him. “You're just
like a naughty little boy. Drink it up now.”

212 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

And meekly, obediently, the great steel magnate
drank it up!

Lady Coote smiled sadly and sweetly at everyone.

“Am I interrupting you? Are you very busy? Oh,
look at those revolvers. Nasty, noisy, murdering
things. To think, Oswald, that you might have been
shot by the burglar last night.”

“You must have been alarmed when you found he
was missing, Lady Coote,” said Battle.

“T didn’t think of it at first,” confessed Lady Coote.
“This poor boy here”—she indicated Jimmy—“being
shot—and everything so dreadful, but so exciting. It
wasn’t till Mr. Bateman asked me where Sir Oswald
was that I remembered he’d gone out half an hour be-
fore for a stroll.”

“Sleepless, eh, Sir Oswald?” asked Battle.

“T am usually an excellent sleeper,” said Sir Oswald.
“But I must confess that last night I felt unusually
restless. I thought the night air would do me good.”

“You came out through this window, I suppose?”

Was it his fancy, or did Sir Oswald hesitate for a
moment before replying?

Ves,”

“In your pumps too,” said Lady Coote, “instead of
putting thick shoes on. What would you do without
me to look after you?”

She shook her head sadly.

“Tf think, Maria, if you don’t mind leaving us—
we have still a lot to discuss.”

“T know, dear, I’m just going.”

—T os eee eS Pe

BATTLE IN CHARGE 213

Lady Coote withdrew, carrying the empty medicine
glass as though it were a goblet out of which she had
just administered a death potion.

“Well, Battle,’ said George Lomax, “it all seems
clear enough. Yes, perfectly clear. The man fires a
shot, disabling Mr. Thesiger, flings away the weapon,
runs along the terrace and down the gravel path.”

“Where he ought to have been caught by my men,”
put in Battle.

“Your men, if I may say so, Battle, seem to have
been singularly remiss. They didn’t see Miss Wade
come in. If they could miss her coming in, they could
easily miss the thief going out.”

Superintendent Battle opened his mouth to speak,
then seemed to think better of it. Jimmy Thesiger
looked at him curiously. He would have given a lot to
know just what was in Superintendent Battle’s mind.

“Must have been a champion runner,” was all the
Scotland Yard man contented himself with saying.

“How do you mean, Battle?”

“Just what I say, Mr. Lomax. I was round the cor-
ner of the terrace myself not fifty seconds after the shot
was fired. And for a man to run all that distance
towards me and get round the corner of the path before
I appeared round the side of the house—well, as I say,
he must have been a champion runner.”

“T am at a loss to understand you, Battle. You have
some idea of your own which I have not yet—er—

grasped. You say the man did not go across the lawn
and now you hint— What exactly do you hint? That

214 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

the man did not go down the path? Then in your opin-
ion—er—where did he go?”

For answer, Superintendent Battle jerked an elo-
quent thumb upwards.

“Eh?” said George.

The Superintendent jerked harder than ever. George
‘raised his head and looked at the ceiling.

“Up there,” said Battle. “Up the ivy again.”

“Nonsense, Superintendent. What you are suggest-
ing is impossible.”

“Not at all impossible, sir. He’d done it once. He
could do it twice.”

“T don’t mean impossible in that sense. But if the
man wanted to escape, he’d never bolt back into the
house.”

“Safest place for him, Mr. Lomax.”

“But Mr. O’Rourke’s door was still locked on the
inside when we came to him.”

“And how did you get to him? Through Sir Stan-
ley’s room. ‘That’s the way our man went. Lady
Eileen tells me she saw the door knob of Mr.
O’Rourke’s door move. That was when our friend
was up there the first time. I suspect the key was
under Mr. O’Rourke’s pillow. But his exit is clear
enough the second time—through the communicating
door and through Sir Stanley’s room, which, of course,
was empty. Like everyone else, Sir stant, is rush-
ing downstairs to the library. Our man’s got a a
course.”

“And where did he go then?”

ee

BATTLE IN CHARGE 215

Superintendent Battle shrugged his burly shoulders
and became evasive.

“Plenty of ways open. Into an empty room on the
other side of the house and down the ivy again—out
through a side door—or, just possibly, if it was an in-
side job, he—well, stayed in the house.”

George looked at him in shocked surprise.

“Really, Battle, I should—I should feel it very
deeply if one of my servants—er—I have the most
perfect reliance on them—it would distress me very
much to have to suspect—”

“‘Nobody’s asking you to suspect anyone, Mr. Lo-
max. I’m just putting all the possibilities before you.
The servants may be all right—probably are.”

“You have disturbed me,” said George. “You have
disturbed me greatly.”

His eyes appeared more protuberant than ever.

To distract him, Jimmy poked delicately at a curi-
ous blackened object on the table.

“What's this?” he asked.

“That’s exhibit Z,” said Battle. ‘The last of our
little lot. It is, or rather it has been, a glove.”

He picked it up, the charred relic, and manipulated
it with pride.

‘Where did you find it” asked Sir Oswald.

Battle jerked his head over his shoulder.

“In the grate—nearly burnt, but not quite. Queer;
looks as though it had been chewed by a dog.”

“It might possibly be Miss Wade’s,” suggested
Jimmy. “She has several dogs.”

216 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

The Superintendent shook his head.

“This isn’t a lady’s glove—no, not even the large
kind of loose glove ladies wear nowadays. Fit it on,
sir, a moment.”

He adjusted the blackened object over Jimmy’s hand.

“You see—it’s large even for you.”

“Do you attach importance to this discovery?” in-
quired Sir Oswald coldly.

“You never know, Sir Oswald, what’s going to be
important or what isn’t.”

There was a sharp tap at the door and Bundle en-
tered.

“T’m so sorry,” she said apologetically, “but Father
has just rung up. He says I must come home because
everybody is worrying him.”

She paused.

“Yes, my dear Eileen?” said George encouragingly,
perceiving that there was more to come.

“Tf wouldn’t have interrupted you—only that I
thought it might perhaps have something to do with
all this. You see, what has upset Father is that one
of our footmen is missing. He went out last night and
hasn’t come back.”

“What is the man’s name?” It was Sir Oswald who
took up the cross-examination.

“John Bauer.”

“An Englishman?”

“T believe he calls himself a Swiss—but I think he’s
a German. He speaks English perfectly, though.”

“Ah!” Sir Oswald drew in his breath with a long,

BATTLE IN CHARGE 217

satisfied hiss. ‘And he has been at Chimneys—how
long?”

“Just under a month.”

Sir Oswald turned to the other two.

“Here is our missing man. You know, Lomax, as
well as I do, that several foreign Governments are
after the thing. I remember the man now perfectly—
tall, well-drilled fellow. Came about a fortnight be-
fore we left. A clever move. Any new servants here
would be closely scrutinized, but at Chimneys, five
miles away—” He did not finish the sentence.

“You think the plan was laid so long beforehand?”

“Why not? There are millions in that formula, Lo-
max. Doubtless Bauer hoped to get access to my pri-
vate papers at Chimneys, and to learn something of
forthcoming arrangements from them. It seems likely
that he may have had an accomplice in this house—
someone who put him wise to the lie of the land and
who saw to the doping of O’Rourke. But Bauer was
the man Miss Wade saw climbing down the ivy—the
big, powerful man.”

He turned to Superintendent Battle.

“Bauer was your man, Superintendent. And, some-
how or other, you let him slip through your fingers.”

CHAPTER XXIV
BUNDLE WONDERS

THERE was no doubt that Superintendent Battle was
taken aback. He fingered his chin thoughtfully.

“Sir Oswald is right, Battle,” said George.. “This is
the man. Any hope of catching him?”

“There may be, sir. It certainly looks—well, sus-
picious. Of course the man may turn up again—at
Chimneys, I mean.”

“Do you think it likely?”

“No, it isn’t,’ confessed Battle. “Yes, it certainly
looks as though Bauer were the man. But I can’t quite
see how he got in and out of these grounds unob-
served.”

“T have already told you my opinion of the men you
posted,” said George. “Hopelessly inefficient—I don’t
want to blame you, Superintendent, but—” His pause
was eloquent.

“Ah, well,” said Battle lightly, “my shoulders are
broad.”

He shook his head and sighed.

“I must get to the telephone at once. Excuse me,
gentlemen. I’m sorry, Mr. Lomax—lI feel I’ve rather
bungled this business. But it’s been puzzling, more
puzzling than you know.”

He strode hurriedly from the room.

218

ste

BUNDLE WONDERS 219

“Come into the garden,” said Bundle to ee “I
want to talk to you.”

They went out together through the window. Jimmy
stared down at the lawn, frowning.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bundle.

Jimmy explained the circumstances of the pistol
throwing.

“I’m wondering,” he ended, “what was in old Bat-
tle’s mind when he got Coote to throw the pistol.
Something, Pll swear. Anyhow, it landed up about
ten yards farther than it should have done. You know,
Bundle, Battle’s a deep one.”

“He’s an extraordinary man,” said Bundle. “I want
to tell you about last night.”

She retailed her conversation with the Superintend-
ent. Jimmy listened attentively.

‘So the Countess is No. 1,” he said thoughtfully.
“It all hangs together very well. No. 2—Bauer—
comes over from Chimneys. He climbs up into
O’Rourke’s room, knowing that O’Rourke has had a
sleeping draught administered to him—by the Countess
somehow or other. The arrangement is that he is to
throw down the papers to the Countess, who will be
waiting below. Then she'll nip back through the
library and up to her room. If Bauer’s caught leaving
the grounds, they’ll find nothing on him. Yes, it was
a good plan—but it went wrong. No sooner is the
Countess in the library than she hears me coming and
has to jump behind the screen. Jolly awkward for her,
because she can’t warn her accomplice. No. 2 pinches

220 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

the papers, looks out of the window, sees, as he thinks,
the Countess waiting, pitches the papers down to her
and proceeds to climb down the ivy, where he finds a
nasty surprise in the shape of me waiting for him.
Pretty nervy work for the Countess waiting behind her
screen. All things considered, she told a pretty good
story. Yes, it all hangs together very well.”

“Too well,” said Bundle decidedly.

“Eh?” said Jimmy, surprised.

“What about No. 7—No. 7, who never appears, but
lives in the background. The Countess and Bauer?
No, it’s not so simple as that. Bauer was here last
night, yes. But he was only here in case things went
wrong—as they have done. His part is the part of
scapegoat; to draw all attention from No. 7—the boss.”

“T say, Bundle,” said Jimmy anxiously, “you haven’t
been reading too much sensational literature, have
you?”

Bundle threw him a glance of dignified reproach.

“Well,” said Jimmy, “I’m not yet like the Red
Queen. I can’t believe six impossible things before
breakfast.”

“Tt’s after breakfast,” said Bundle.

“Or even after breakfast. We've got a perfectly
good hypothesis which fits the facts—and you won’t
have it at any price, simply because, like the old riddle,
you want to make things more difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bundle, “but I cling passionately
to a mysterious No. 7 being a member of the house-
party.”

BUNDLE WONDERS 221

“What does Bill think?”

“Bill,” said Bundle coldly, “‘is impossible.”

“Oh!” said Jimmy. “I suppose you’ve told him
about the Countess? He ought to be warned. Heaven
knows what he’ll go blabbing about otherwise.”

“He won’t hear a word against her,” said Bundle.
““He’s—oh, simply idiotic. I wish you’d drive it home
to him about that mole.”

“You forget I wasn’t in the cupboard,” said Jimmy.
“And anyway Id rather not argue with Bill about his
lady friend’s mole. But surely he can’t be such an
ass as not to see that everything fits in?” .

“He’s every kind of ass,” said Bundle bitterly.
“You made the greatest mistake, Jimmy, in ever tell-
ing him at all.”

“T’m sorry,” said Jimmy. “I didn’t see it at the
time—but I do now. I was a fool, but dash it all, old
Bue”

“You know what foreign adventuresses are,” said
Bundle. ‘How they get hold of one.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” said Jimmy. “One
has never tried to get hold of me.” And he sighed.

For a moment or two there was silence. Jimmy was
turning things over in his mind. The more he thought
about them, the more unsatisfactory they seemed.

“You say that Battle wants the Countess let alone,”
he said at last.

“Yes.”

“The idea being that through her he will get at
someone else?”

222 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Bundle nodded.

Jimmy frowned deeply as he tried to see where this
led. Clearly Battle had some very definite idea in his
mind.

“Sir Stanley Digby went up to town early this morn-
ing, didn’t he?” he said.

cOVregs

“O’Rourke with him?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“You don’t think—no, that’s impossible?”

“What?”

“That O’Rourke can be mixed up in this in any way?”

“Tt’s possible,” said Bundle thoughtfully. “He’s
got what one calls a very vivid personality. No, it
wouldn’t surprise me if—oh, to tell the truth, nothing
would surprise me! In fact, there’s only one person
I’m really sure isn’t No. 7.”

“Who’s that?”

“Superintendent Battle.”

“Oh! I thought you were going to say George
Lomax.”

“Ssh, here he comes.”

George was, indeed, bearing down upon them in an
unmistakable manner. Jimmy made an excuse and
slipped away. George sat down by Bundle.

“My dear Eileen, must you really leave us?”

“Well, Father seems to have got the wind up rather
badly. I think I’d better go home and hold his hand.”

“This little hand will indeed be comforting,” said
George, taking it and pressing it playfully. “My dear

BUNDLE WONDERS 223

Eileen, I understand your reasons and I honour you
for them. In these days of changed and unsettled
conditions—”

“He’s off,” thought Bundle desperately.

“when family life is at a premium—all the old
standards falling!—it becomes our class to set an ex-
ample—to show that we, at least, are unaffected by
modern conditions. They call us the Die Hards—I am
proud of the term—I repeat I am proud of the term!
There are things that should die hard—dignity, beauty,
modesty, the sanctity of family life, filial respect—who
dies if these shall live? As I was saying, my dear
Eileen, I envy you the privileges of your youth.
Youth! What a wonderful thing! What a wonderful
word! And we do not appreciate it until we grow to
—er—maturer years. I confess, my dear child, that
I have in the past been disappointed by your levity.
I see now it was but the careless and charming levity
of a child. I perceive now the serious and earnest
beauty of your mind. You will allow me, I hope, to
help you with your reading?”

“Oh, thank you,” said Bundle faintly.

“And you must never be afraid of me again. I was
shocked when Lady Caterham told me that you stood
in awe of me. I can assure you that I am a very
humdrum sort of person.”

The spectacle of George being modest struck Bundle
spellbound. George continued.

“Never be shy with me, dear child. And do not
be afraid of boring me. It will be a great delight to me

224 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

to—if I may say so—form your budding mind. I will
be your political mentor. We have never needed young
women of talent and charm in the Party more than we
need them to-day. You may well be destined to follow
in the footsteps of your aunt, Lady Caterham.”

This awful prospect knocked Bundle out completely.
She could only stare helplessly at George. This did not
discourage him—on the contrary. His main objec-
tion to women was that they talked too much. It was
seldom that he found what he considered a really good
listener. He smiled benignantly at Bundle.

“The butterfly emerging from the chrysalis. A won-
derful picture. I have a very interesting work on
political economy. I will look it out now, and you can
take it to Chimneys with you. When you have fin-
ished it, I will discuss it with you. Do not hesitate to
write to me if any point puzzles you. I have many
public duties, but by unsparing work I can always
make time for the affairs of my friends. I will look
for the book.”

He strode away. Bundle gazed after him with a
dazed expression. She was roused by the unexpected
advent of Bill.

“Look here,” said Bill, “what the hell was Codders
holding your hand for?”

“It wasn’t my hand,” said Bundle wildly. “It was
my budding mind.”

“Don’t be an ass, Bundle.”

“Sorry, Bill, but I’m a little worried. Do you re-

BUNDLE WONDERS 22%

member saying that Jimmy ran a grave risk coming
down here?”

“So he does,” said Bill. “It’s frightfully hard to
escape from Codders once he’s got interested in you.
Jimmy will be caught in the toils before he knows
where he is.”

“Tt’s not Jimmy who’s got caught—it’s me,”’ said
Bundle wildly. “I shall have to meet endless Mrs.
Macattas, and read political economy and discuss it
with George, and Heavens knows where it will end!”

Bill whistled.

“Poor old Bundle. Been laying it on a bit thick,
haven’t you?”

“T must have done. Bill, I feel horribly entangled.”

“Never mind,” said Bill consolingly. ‘George
doesn’t really believe in women standing for Parlia-
ment, so you won’t have to stand up on platforms and
talk a lot of junk, or kiss dirty babies in Bermondsey.
Come and have a cocktail. It’s nearly lunch time.”

Bundle got up and walked by his side obediently.

“And I do so hate politics,” she murmured piteously.

“Of course you do. So do all sensible people. It’s
only people like Codders and Pongo who take them
seriously and revel in them. But all the same,” said
Bill, reverting suddenly to a former point, “you
oughtn’t to let Codders hold your hand.” .

“Why on earth not?” said Bundle. “He’s known me
all my life.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

226 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Virtuous William— Oh, I say, look at Superintend-
ent Battle.”

They were just passing in through a side door. A
cupboard-like room opened out of the little hallway.
In it were kept golf clubs, tennis racquets, bowls and
other features of country house life. Superintendent
Battle was conducting a minute examination of various
golf clubs. He looked up a little sheepishly at Bun-
dle’s exclamation.

“Going to take up golf, Superintendent Battle?”

“T might do worse, Lady Eileen. They say it’s never
too late to start. And I’ve got one good quality that
will tell at any game.”

“What’s that?” asked Bill.

“T don’t know when I’m beaten. If everything goes
wrong, I turn to and start again!”

And with a determined look on his face, Superin-
tendent Battle came out and joined them, shutting the
door behind him.

CHAPTER XXV
JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS

Jimmy THESIGER was feeling depressed. Avoiding
George, whom he suspected of being ready to tackle
him on serious subjects, he stole quietly away after
lunch. Proficient as he was in details of the Santa Fé
boundary dispute, he had no wish to stand an exami-
nation on it this minute.

Presently what he hoped would happen came to pass.
Loraine Wade, also unaccompanied, strolled down one
of the shady garden paths. In a moment Jimmy was
by her side. They walked for some minutes in silence
and then Jimmy said tentatively:

“Loraine?”

Ves?”

“Look here, I’m a bad chap at putting things—but
what about it? What’s wrong with getting a special
licence and being married and living together happy
ever afterwards?”

Loraine displayed no embarrassment at this surpris-
ing proposal. Instead she threw back her head and
laughed frankly.

“Don’t laugh at a chap,” said Jimmy reproachfully.

“T can’t help it. You were so funny.”

“Toraine—you are a little devil.”

“I’m not. I’m what’s called a thoroughly nice girl.”

227

iis
os
\

228 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Only to those who don’t know you—who are taken
in by your delusive appearance of meekness and de-
corum.”

“T like your long words.”

“All out of cross-word puzzles.”

“So educative.”

“Loraine, dear, don’t beat about the bush. Will you
or won’t you?”

Loraine’s face sobered. It took on its characteristic
appearance of determination. Her small mouth hard-
ened and her little chin shot out aggressively.

“No, Jimmy. Not while things are as they are at
present—all unfinished.”

“TI know we haven’t done what we set out to do,”
agreed Jimmy. “But all the same—well, it’s the end of
a chapter. The papers are safe at the Air Ministry.
Virtue triumphant. And—for the moment—nothing
doing.”

“So—let’s get married?” said Loraine with a slight
smile.

“You've said it. Precisely the idea.”

But again Loraine shook her head.

“No, Jimmy. Until this thing’s rounded up—until
we're safe—”

“You think we’re in danger?”

“Don’t you?”

Jimmy’s cherubic pink face clouded over.

“You're right,” he said at last. “If that extraordi-
nary rigmarole of Bundle’s is true—and I suppose, in-

JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS 229

credible as it sounds, it must be true—then we’re not
safe till we’ve settled with—No. 7!”

“And the others?”

“No—the others don’t count. It’s No. 7 with his
own ways of working that frightens me. Because I
don’t know who he is or where to look for him.”

Loraine shivered.

“T’ve been frightened,” she said in a low voice.
‘Ever since Gerry’s death. . . .”

“You needn’t be frightened. There’s nothing for
you to be frightened about. You leave everything to
me. I tell you, Loraine—J’/l get No. 7 yet. Once we
get him—well, I don’t think there’ll be much trouble
with the rest of the gang, whoever they are.”

“If you get him—and suppose he gets you?”

“Tmpossible,” said Jimmy cheerfully. “I’m much
too clever. Always have a good opinion of yourselfi—
that’s my motto.”

“When I think of the things that might have hap-
pened last night—” Loraine shivered.

“Well, they didn’t,” said Jimmy. ‘“We’re both here,
safe and sound—though I must admit my arm is con-
foundedly painful.”

“Poor boy.”

“Oh, one must expect to suffer in a good cause.
And what with my wounds and my cheerful conversa-
tion, ’'ve made a complete conquest of Lady Coote.”

“Oh! Do you think that important?”

“I’ve an idea it may come in useful.”

230 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY >

‘“‘You’ve got some plan in your mind, Jimmy. What
is it?”

“The young hero never tells his plans,” said Jimmy
firmly. “They mature in the dark.”

“You are an idiot, Jimmy.”

“T know. I know. That’s what everyone says. But
I can assure you, Loraine, there’s a lot of brain-work
going on underneath. Now what about your plans?
Got any?”

“Bundle has suggested that I should go to Chimneys
with her for a bit.”

“Excellent,” said Jimmy approvingly. “Nothing
could be better. I’d like an eye kept on Bundle any-
way. You never know what mad thing she won’t be
up to next. She’s so frightfully unexpected. And the
worst of it is, she’s so astonishingly successful. I tell
you, keeping Bundle out of mischief is a whole-time
job.”

“Bill ought to look after her,” suggested Loraine.

“Bill’s pretty busy elsewhere.”

“Don’t you believe it,” said Loraine.

“What? Not the Countess? But the lad’s potty
about her.”

Loraine continued to shake her head.

“There’s something there I don’t quite understand.
But it’s not the Countess with Bill—it’s Bundle. Why,
this morning Bill was talking to me when Mr. Lomax
came out and sat down by Bundle. He took her hand
or something, and Bill was off like—like a rocket.”

“What a curious taste some people have,” observed

a

JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS 231

Mr. Thesiger. “Fancy anyone who was talking to
you wanting to do anything else. But you surprise me
very much, Loraine. I thought our simple Bill was
enmeshed in the toils of the beautiful foreign adven-
turess. Bundle thinks so, I know.”

“Bundle may,” said Loraine, “but I tell you, Jimmy,
it isn’t so.”

“Then what’s the big idea?”

“Don’t you think it possible that Bill is doing a bit
of sleuthing on his own?”

“Bill? He hasn’t got the brains.”

“T’m not so sure. When a simple, muscular person
like Bill does set out to be subtle, no one ever gives
him credit for it.”

“And in consequence he can put in some good work.
Yes, there’s something in that. But all the same I’d
never have thought it of Bill. He’s doing the Count-
ess’s little woolly lamb to perfection. I think you’re
wrong, you know, Loraine. The Countess is an extraor-
dinarily beautiful woman—not my type, of course,”
put in Mr. Thesiger hastily—‘and old Bill has always
had a heart like an hotel.”

Loraine shook her head, unconvinced.

“Well,” said Jimmy, “have it your own way. We
seem to have more or less settled things. You go back
with Bundle to Chimneys, and for heaven’s sake keep
her from poking about in that Seven Dials place again.
Heaven knows what will happen if she does.”

Loraine nodded.

232 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“And now,” said Jimmy, “I think a few words with
Lady Coote would be advisable.”

Lady Coote was sitting on a garden seat doing wool-
work. The subject was a disconsolate and somewhat
misshapen young woman weeping over an urn.

Lady Coote made room for Jimmy by her side, and
he promptly, being a tactful young man, admired her
work.

“Do you like it?” said Lady Coote, pleased. “It
was begun by my Aunt Selina the week before she died.
Cancer of the liver, poor thing.”

“How beastly,” said Jimmy.

“And how is the arm?”

“Oh, it’s feeling quite all right. Bit of a nuisance
and all that, you know.”

“You'll have to be careful,” said Lady Coote in a
warning voice. “I’ve known blood-poisoning set in—
and in that case you might lose your arm altogether.”

“Oh! I say, I hope not.”

“T’m only warning you,” said Lady Coote.

“Where are you hanging out now?” inquired Mr.
Thesiger. “Town—or where?”

Considering that he knew the answer to his query
perfectly well, he put the question with a praiseworthy
amount of ingenuousness.

Lady Coote sighed heavily.

“Sir Oswald has taken the Duke of Alton’s place.
Letherbury. You know it, perhaps?”

“Oh, rather. Topping place, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Lady Coote. “It’s a very

JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS 233

large place, and gloomy, you know. Rows of picture
galleries with such forbidding looking people. What
they call Old Masters are very depressing, I think.
You should have seen a little house we had in York-
shire, Mr. Thesiger. When Sir Oswald was plain Mr.
Coote. Such a nice lounge hall and a cheerful drawing-
room with an ingle-nook—a white striped paper with a
frieze of wistaria I chose for it, I remember. Satin
stripe, you know, not moiré. Much better taste, I
always think. The dining-room faced northeast, so we
didn’t get much sun in it, but with a good bright scar-
let paper and a set of those comic hunting prints—why,
it was as cheerful as Christmas.”

In the excitement of these reminiscences, Lady
Coote dropped several little balls of wool, which
Jimmy dutifully retrieved.

“Thank you, my dear,” said Lady Coote. “Now,
what was I saying? Oh!—about houses—yes, I do
like a cheerful house. And choosing things for it gives
you an interest.”

“T suppose Sir Oswald will be buying a place of his
own one of these days,” suggested Jimmy. ‘And then
you can have it just as you like.”

Lady Coote shook her head sadly.

“Sir Oswald aes of a firm doing it—and you know
what that means.”

“Oh! But they’d consult you!”

“Tt would be one of those grand svirene all for the
antique. They’d look down on the things I call com-
fortable and homey. Not but that Sir Oswald wasn’t

234 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

very comfortable and satisfied in his home always, and
I daresay his tastes are just the same underneath. But
nothing will suit him now but the best! He’s got on
wonderfully, and naturally he wants something to show
for it, but many’s the time I wonder where it will end.”

Jimmy looked sympathetic.

“Tt’s like a runaway horse,” said Lady Coote. “Got
the bit between its teeth and away it goes. It’s the
same with Sir Oswald. He’s got on, and he’s got on,
till he can’t stop getting on. He’s one of the richest
men in England now—but does that satisfy him? No,
he wants still more. He wants to be—I don’t know
what he wants to be! I can tell you, it frightens me
sometimes!”

“Like the Persian Johnny,” said Jimmy, “who went
about wailing for fresh worlds to conquer.”

Lady Coote nodded acquiescence without much
knowing what Jimmy was talking about.

“What I wonder is—will his stomach stand it?” she
went on tearfully. “To have him an invalid—with
his ideas—oh, it won’t bear thinking of.”

“He looks very hearty,” said Jimmy, consolingly.

“He’s got something on his mind,” said Lady Coote.
“Worried, that’s what he is. J know.”

“‘What’s he worried about?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps something at the works.
It’s a great comfort for him having Mr. Bateman.
Such an earnest young man—and so conscientious.”

“Marvellously conscientious,” agreed Jimmy.

JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS 235

“Oswald thinks a lot of Mr. Bateman’s judgment.
He says that Mr. Bateman is always right.”

“That was one of his worst characteristics years
ago,” said Jimmy feelingly.

Lady Coote looked slightly puzzled.

“That was an awfully jolly week-end I had with
you at Chimneys,” said Jimmy. “I mean it would have
been awfully jolly if it hadn’t been for poor old Gerry
kicking the bucket. Jolly nice girls.”

“T find girls ,very perplexing,” said Lady Coote.
“Not romantic, you know. Why, I embroidered some
handkerchiefs for Sir Oswald with my own hair when
we were engaged.”

“Did you?” said Jimmy. “How marvellous. But I
suppose girls haven’t got long enough hair to do that
nowadays.”

“That’s true,” admitted Lady Coote. “But, oh, it
shows in lots of other ways. I remember when I was
a girl, ore of my—well, my young men—picked up a
handful of gravel, and a girl who was with me said at
once that he was treasuring it because my feet had
trodden on it. Such a pretty idea, I thought. Though
it turned out afterwards that he was taking a course of
mineralogy—or do I mean geology?—at a technical
school. But I liked the idea—and stealing a girl’s
handkerchief and treasuring it—all those sort of
things.” ’

“Awkward if the girl wanted to blow her nose,” said
the practical Mr. Thesiger.

236 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Lady Coote laid down her wool-work and looked
searchingly but kindly at him.

“Come now,” she said, “isn’t there some nice girl
that you fancy? That you’d like to work and make a
little home for?”

Jimmy blushed and mumbled.

“TI thought you got on very well with one of those
girls at Chimneys that time—Vera Daventry.”

“Socks?”

“They do call her that,” admitted Lady Coote. “I
can’t think why. It isn’t pretty.”

“Oh, she’s a topper,” said Jimmy. “I'd like to meet
her again.”

*She’s coming down to stay with us next week-end.”

“Ts she?” said Jimmy, trying to infuse a large amount
of wistful longing into the two words.

“Yes. Would—would you like to come?”

“I would,” said Jimmy heartily. “Thanks ever so
much, Lady Coote.”

And reiterating fervent thanks, he left her.

Sir Oswald presently joined his wife.

“What has that young jackanapes been boring you
about?” he demanded. “I can’t stand that young
fellow.” .

““He’s a dear boy,” said Lady Coote. “And so brave.
Look how he got wounded last night.”

“Yes, messing around where he’d no business to be.”

“T think you’re very unfair, Oswald.”

“Never done an honest day’s work in his life. A

JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS 237

real waster if there ever was one. He’d never get on
if he had his way to make in the world.”

“You must have got your feet damp last night,” said
Lady Coote. “I hope you won’t get pneumonia.
Freddie Richards died of it the other day. Dear me,
Oswald, it makes my blood run cold to think of you
wandering about with a dangerous burglar loose in the
grounds. He might have shot you. I’ve asked Mr.
Thesiger down for next week-end, by the way.”

“Nonsense,” said Sir Oswald. “I won’t have that
young man in my house, do you hear, Maria?”

“Why not?”

“That’s my business.”

“T’m so sorry, dear,” said Lady Coote placidly.
“T’ve asked him now, so it can’t be helped. Pick up
that ball of pink wool, will you, Oswald?”

Sir Oswald complied, his face black as thunder. He
looked at his wife and hesitated. Lady Coote was
placidly threading her wool needle.

“T particularly don’t want Thesiger down next week-
end,” he said at last. “I’ve heard a good deal about
him from Bateman. He was at school with him.”

“What did Mr. Bateman say?” {

“He’d no good to say of him. In fact, he warned
me very seriously against him.”

“He did, did he?” said Lady Coote thoughtfully.

“And I have the highest respect for Bateman’s judg-
ment. I’ve never known him wrong.”

“Dear me,” said Lady Coote. “What a mess I seem
to have made of things. Of course, I should never

238 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

have asked him if I had known. You should have told
me all this before, Oswald. It’s too late now.”

She began to roll up her work very carefully. Sir
Oswald looked at her, made as if to speak, then
shrugged his shoulders. He followed her into the
house. Lady Coote, walking ahead, wore a very faint
smile on her face. She was fond of her husband, but
she was also fond—in a quiet, unobtrusive, wholly
womanly manner—of getting her own way.

CHAPTER XXVI
MAINLY ABOUT GOLF

“Tuat friend of yours is a nice girl, Bundle,” said
Lord Caterham.

Loraine had been at Chimneys for nearly a week, and
had earned the high opinion of her host—mainly be-
cause of the charming readiness she had shown to be
instructed in the science of the mashie shot.

Bored by his winter abroad, Lord Caterham had
taken up golf. He was an execrable player and in con-
sequence was profoundly enthusiastic over the game.
He spent most of his mornings lofting mashie shots over
various shrubs and bushes—or, rather, essaying to loft
them, hacking large bits out of the velvety turf and
generally reducing MacDonald to despair.

“We must lay out a little course,” said Lord Cater-
ham, addressing a daisy. “A sporting little course.
_ Now then, just watch this one, Bundle. Off the right

knee, slow back, keep the head still and use the wrists.”

The ball, heavily topped, scudded across the lawn
and disappeared into the unfathomed depths of a great
bank of rhododendrons.

“Curious,” said Lord Caterham. ‘What did I do
then, I wonder? As I was saying, Bundle, that friend
of yours is a very nice girl. I really think I am in-
ducing her to take quite an interest in the game. She

239

>

240 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

hit some excellent shots this morning—really quite as
good as I could do myself.”

Lord Caterham took another careless swing and re-
moved an immense chunk of turf. MacDonald, who
was passing, retrieved it and stamped it firmly back.
The look he gave Lord Caterham would have caused
anyone but an ardent golfer to sink through the earth.

“Tf MacDonald has been guilty of cruelty to Cootes,
which I strongly suspect,” said Bundle, “he’s being
punished now.”

“Why shouldn’t I do as I like in my own garden?”
demanded her father. “MacDonald ought to be inter-
ested in the way my game is coming on—the Scotch are
a great golfing nation.”

“You poor old man,” said Bundle. ‘You'll never be
a golfer—but at any rate it keeps you out of mischief.”

“Not at all,” said Lord Caterham. “I did the long
sixth in five the other day. The pro was very surprised
when I told him about it.”

“He would be,” said Bundle. :

“Talking of Cootes, Sir Oswald plays a fair game—
a very fair game. Not a pretty style—too stiff. But
straight down the middle every time. But curious how
the cloven hoof shows—won’t give you a six-inch putt!
Makes you put it in every time. Now I don’t like
that.”

“I suppose he’s a man who likes to be sure,” said
Bundle. .

“Tt’s contrary to the spirit of the game,” said her
father. “And he’s not interested in the theory of the

MAINLY ABOUT GOLF 241

thing either. Says he just plays for exercise and
doesn’t bother about style. Now, that secretary chap,
Bateman, is quite different. It’s the theory interests
him. I was slicing badly with my spoon; and he said
it all came from too much right arm; and he evolved
a very interesting theory. It’s all left arm in golf—the
left arm is the arm that counts. He says he plays
tennis left handed but golf with ordinary clubs because
there his superiority with the left arm tells.”

» “And did he play very marvellously?” inquired
Bundle.

“No, he didn’t,” confessed Lord Caterham. “But
then he may have been off his game. I see the theory
all right and I think there’s a lot init. Ah! Did you
see that one, Bundle? Right over the rhododendrons.
A perfect shot. Ah! If one could be sure of doing
that-every time— Yes, Tredwell, what is it?”

Tredwell addressed Bundle.

“Mr. Thesiger would like to speak to you on the
telephone, my lady.”

Bundle set off at full speed for the house, yelling
“Toraine, Loraine,” as she did so. Loraine joined her
just as she was lifting the receiver.

“Hallo, is that you, Jimmy?”

“Hallo. How are you?”

“Very fit, but a bit bored.”

“How’s Loraine?” ;

“She’s all right. She’s here. Do you want to speak
to her?” |

“In a minute. I’ve got a lot to say.. To begin with,

242 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

I’m going down to the Cootes’ for the week-end,” he
said significantly. ‘Now, look here, Bundle, you don’t
know how one gets hold of skeleton keys, do you?”

“Haven't the foggiest. Is it really necessary to take
skeleton keys to the Cootes’?”

“Well, I had a sort of idea they’d come in handy.
You don’t know the sort of shop one gets them at?”

“What you want is a kindly burglar friend to show
you the ropes.”

“I do, Bundle, I do. And unfortunately I haven’t
got one. I thought perhaps your bright brain might
grapple successfully with the problem. But I suppose
I shall have to fall back upon Stevens as usual. He’ll
be getting some funny ideas in his head soon about me
—first a blue-nosed automatic—and now skeleton keys.
He’ll think I’ve joined the criminal classes.”

“Jimmy?” said Bundle.

“Ves?”

“Look here—be careful, won’t you? I mean if Sir
Oswald finds you nosing around with skeleton keys—
well, I should think he could be very unpleasant when
he likes.”

“Young man of pleasing appearance in the dock!
All right, Pll be careful. Pongo’s the fellow I’m really
frightened of. He sneaks around so on those flat feet
of his. You never hear him coming. And he always
did have a genius for poking his nose in where he
wasn’t wanted. But trust to the boy hero.”

“Well, I wish Loraine and I were going to be there
to look after you.”

MAINLY ABOUT GOLF 243

“Thank you, nurse. As a matter of fact, though,
I have a scheme—” :

“Yesr”

“Do you think you and Loraine might have a con-
venient car breakdown near Letherbury to-morrow
morning? It’s not so very far from you, is it?”

“Forty miles. That’s nothing.”

“I thought it wouldn’t be—to you! Don’t kill
Loraine though. I’m rather fond of Loraine. All
right, then—somewhere round about quarter to half
past twelve.”

“So that they invite us to lunch?”

“That’s the idea. I say, Bundle, I ran into that girl
Socks yesterday and what do you think—Terence
O’Rourke is going to be down there this week-end!”

“Jimmy, do you think he—”

‘“‘Well—suspect everyone, you know. That’s what
they say. He’s a wild lad, and daring as they make
them. I wouldn’t put it past him to run a secret so-
ciety. He and the Countess might be in this together.
He was out in Hungary last year.”

“But he could pinch the formula any time.”

“That’s just what he couldn’t. He’d have to do it
under circumstances where he couldn’t be suspected.
But the retreat up the ivy and into his own bed—well,
that would be rather neat. Now for ‘instructions.
After a few polite nothings to Lady Coote, you and
Loraine are to get hold of Pongo and O’Rourke by
hook or by crook and keep them occupied till lunch

244 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

time. See? It oughtn’t to be difficult for a couple of
beautiful girls like you.”

“You're using the best butter, I see.”

“A plain statement of fact.”

“Well, at-any rate, your instructions are duly noted.
Do you want to talk to Loraine now?”

Bundle passed over the receiver and tactfully left
the room.

CHAPTER XXVII
NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE

Jmumy THESIGER arrived at Letherbury on a sunny
autumn afternoon and was greeted affectionately by
Lady Coote and with cold dislike by Sir Oswald.
Aware of the keen match-making eye of Lady Coote
upon him, Jimmy took pains to make himself extremely
agreeable to Socks Daventry.

O’Rourke was there in excellent spirits. He was in-
clined to be official and secretive about the mysterious
events at the Abbey, about which Socks catechized him
freely, but his official reticence took a novel form—
namely that of embroidering the tale of events in such
a fantastic manner that nobody could possibly guess
what the truth might have been.

“Four masked men with revolvers? Is that really
so?” demanded Socks severely.

“Ah! I’m remembering how that there was the
round half dozen of them to hold me down and force

‘the stuff down my throat. Sure, and I thought it was
poison, and I done for entirely.”
“And what was stolen, or what did they try and
steal?”

“What else but the crown jewels of Russia that
were brought to Mr. Lomax secretly to deposit in the
Bank of England.”

245

246 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“What a bloody liar you are,” said Socks without
emotion.

“A liar? I? And the jewels brought over by aero-
plane with my best friend as pilot. This is secret his-
tory I’m telling you, Socks. Will you ask Jimmy
Thesiger there if you don’t believe me. Not that Pd
be putting any trust in what he’d say.”

“Ts it true,” said Socks, “that George Lomax came
down without his false teeth? ‘That’s what I want to
know.”

“There were two revolvers,’ said Lady Coote.
“Nasty things. I saw them myself. It’s a wonder this
poor boy wasn’t killed.”

“Oh, I was born to be hanged,” said Jimmy.

“T hear that there was a Russian countess there of
subtle beauty,” said Socks. “And that she vamped
Bill.”

“Some of the things she said about Buda Pesth were
too dreadful,” said Lady Coote. “TI shall never forget
them. Oswald, we must send a subscription.”

Sir Oswald grunted.

“Tll make a note of it, Lady Coote,” said Rupert
Bateman.

“Thank you, Mr. Bateman. I feel one ought to do
something as a thank offering. I can’t imagine how
Sir Oswald escaped being shot—letting alone die of
pneumonia.”

“Don’t be foolish, Maria,” said Sir Oswald.

“T’ve always had a horror of cat burglars,” said
Lady Coote. |

NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE 247

“Think of having the luck to meet ore face to face.
How thrilling!” murmured Socks.

“Don’t you believe it,” said Jimmy. “It’s damned
painful.” And he patted his right ar’n gingerly.

“How is the poor arm?” inquired Lady Coote.

“Oh, pretty well all right now. But it’s been the
most confounded nuisance having to do everything
with the left hand. I’m no good whatever with it.”

“Every child should be brought up to be ambidex-
trous,” said Sir Oswald.

“Oh!” said Socks, somewhat out of her depth. “Is
that like seals?” ;

“Not amphibious,” said Mr. Bateman. ‘Ambidex-
trous means using either hand equally well.”

“Oh!” said Socks, looking at Sir Oswald with respect.
“Can you?”

“Certainly; I can write with either hand.”

“But not with both at once?”

“That would not be practical,” said Sir Oswald
shortly.

“No,” said Socks thoughtfully. “I suppose that
would be a bit too subtle.”

“Tt would be a grand thing now in a Government
department,” observed Mr. O’Rourke, “if one could
keep the tent hand from knowing what the left hand
was doing.”

“Can you use both hands?”

“No, niente I’m the most eeiedarided person that
ever was.”

“But you deal cards with your left hand,” said the

248 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

observant Ba‘eman. “I noticed the other night.”

“Oh, but that’s different entirely,” said Mr.
O’Rourke easily.

A gong with < sombre note pealed out and every-
one went upstairs to dress for dinner.

After dinner Sir Oswald and Lady Coote, Mr. Bate-
man and Mr. O’Rourke played bridge and Jimmy
passed a flirtatious evening with. Socks. The last
words Jimmy heard as he retreated up the staircase
that night were Sir Oswald saying to his wife:

“You'll never make a bridge player, Maria.”

And her reply:

“T know, dear. So you always say. You owe Mr.
O’Rourke another pound, Oswald. That’s right.”

It was some two hours later that Jimmy crept noise-
lessly (or so he hoped) down the stairs. He made one
brief visit to the dining-room and then found his way
to Sir Oswald’s study. There, after listening intently
for a minute or two, he set to work. Most of the
drawers of the desk were locked, but a curiously shaped
bit of wire in Jimmy’s hand soon saw to that. One by
one the drawers yielded to his manipulations.

Drawer by drawer he sorted through methodically,
being careful to replace everything in the same order.
Once or twice he stopped to listen, fancying he heard
some distant sound. But he remained undisturbed.

The last drawer was looked through. Jimmy now
knew—or could have known had he been paying at-
tention—many interesting details relating to steel; but
he had found nothing of what he wanted—a reference

NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE 249

to Herr Eberhard’s invention or anything that could
give him a clue to the identity of the mysterious No.
7. He had, perhaps, hardly hoped that he would. It
was an oif-chance and he had taken it—but he had not
expected much result—except by sheer luck.

He tested the drawers to make sure that he had re-
locked them securely. He knew Rupert Bateman’s
powers of minute observation and glanced round the
room to make sure that he had left no incriminating
trace of his presence.

“That’s that,” he muttered to himself softly.
“Nothing there. Well, perhaps I’ll have better luck
to-morrow morning—if the girls only play up.”

He came out of the study, closing the door behind
him and locking it. For a moment he thought he heard
a sound quite near him, but decided he had been mis-
taken. He felt his way noiselessly along the great hall.
Just enough light came from the high vaulted windows
to enable him to pick his way without stumbling into
anything.

Again he heard a soft sound—he heard it quite cer-

tainly this time and without the possibility of making
a mistake. He was not alone in the hall. Somebody
else was there, moving as stealthily as he was. His
heart beat suddenly very fast.
_ With a sudden spring he jumped to the electric
switch and turned on the lights. The sudden glare
made him blink—but he saw plainly enough. Not four
feet away stood Rupert Bateman.

“My goodness, Pongo,” cried Jimmy, “you did give

250 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

me a start. Slinking about like that in the dark.”

“T heard a noise,” explained Mr. Bateman severely.
“I thought burglars had got in and I came down to
see.”

Jimmy looked thoughtfully at Mr. Bateman’s rubber-
soled feet.

“You think of everything, Pongo,” he said genially.
“Even a lethal weapon.”

His eye rested on the bulge in the other’s pocket.

“Tt’s as well to be armed. One never knows whom
one may meet.”

“T am glad you didn’t shoot,” said Jimmy. “ma
bit tired of being shot at.”

“T might easily have done so,” said Mr. Bateman.

“Tt would be dead against the law if you did,” said
Jimmy. “You’ve got to make quite sure the beggar’s
house-breaking, you know, before you pot at him.
You mustn’t jump to conclusions. Otherwise you’d
have to explain why you shot a guest on a perfectly
innocent errand like mine.”

“By the way, what did you come down for?”

“T was hungry,” said Jimmy. “I rather fancied a
dry biscuit.”

“There are some biscuits in a tin by your bed,” said
Rupert Bateman.

He was staring at Jimmy very intently through his
horn-rimmed spectacles.

“Ah! That’s where the staff work has gone wrong,
old boy. There’s a tin there with ‘Biscuits for Starving
Visitors’ on it. But when the starving visitor opened

NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE 251

it—nothing inside. So I just toddled down to the
dining-room.”

And with a sweet, ingenuous smile, eee produced
from his dressing-gown pocket a handful of biscuits.

There was a moment’s pause.

“And now I think Ill toddle back to bed,” said
Jimmy. “Night-night, Pongo.”

With an affection of nonchalance, he mounted the
staircase. Rupert Bateman followed him. At the door-
way of his room, Jimmy paused as if to say good-night
once more.

“Tt’s an extraordinary thing about these biscuits,”
said Mr. Bateman. “Do you mind if IT just—

“Certainly, laddie, look for yourself.”

Mr. Bateman strode across the room, ppenes the
biscuit box and ever at its emptiness.

“Very remiss,’ he murmured. “Well, good-night.”

He withdrew. Jimmy sat on the edge of his bed
listening for a minute.

“That was a narrow shave,” he murmured to him-
self. “Suspicious sort of chap, Pongo. Never seems

to sleep. Nasty habit of his prowling around with a
revolver.”

He got up and opened one of the drawers of the
dressing-table. Beneath an assortment of ties lay a

_pile of biscuits.

“‘There’s nothing for it,” said Jimmy. “I shall have
to eat all the damned things. Ten to one, Pongo will
come prowling round in the morning.”

With a sigh, he settled down to a meal of biscuits for
which he had no inclination whatever.

CHAPTER XXVIII
SUSPICIONS

Ir was just on the appointed hour of twelve o’clock
that Bundle and Loraine entered the park gates, hav-
ing left the Hispano at an adjacent garage.

Lady Coote greeted the two girls with surprise, but
distinct pleasure, and immediately pressed them to
stay to lunch.

O’Rourke, who had been reclining in an immense
arm-chair, began at once to talk with great animation
to Loraine, who was listening with half an ear to
Bundle’s highly technical explanation of the mechani-
cal trouble which had affected the Hispano.

“And we said,” ended Bundle, “how marvellous that
the jbrute should have broken down just here! Last
time it happened was on a Sunday at a place called
Little Spedlington under the Hill. And it lived up to
its name, I can tell you.”

“That would be a grand name on the films,” re-
marked O’Rourke.

“Birthplace of the simple country maiden,” sug-
gested Socks.

“T wonder now,” said Lady Coote, “where Mr. The-
siger is?”

“He’s in the billiard-room, I think,” said Socks.
“Tl fetch him.”

252

SUSPICIONS 253

She went off, but had hardly gone a minute when
Rupert Bateman appeared upon the scene, with the
harassed and serious air usual with him.

“Yes, Lady Coote? Thesiger said you were asking
for me. How do you do, Lady Eileen—”

He broke off to greet the two girls, and Loraine im-
mediately took the field.

“Oh, Mr. Bateman! I’ve been wanting to see you.
Wasn’t it you who was telling me what to do for a dog
when he is continually getting sore paws?”

The secretary shook his head.

“Tt must have been someone else, Miss Wade.
Though, as a matter of fact, I do happen to know—”

“What a wonderful man you are,” interrupted Lor-
aine. “You know about everything.”

“One should keep abreast of modern knowledge,”
said Mr. Bateman seriously. “Now about your dog’s
paws—”

Terence O’Rourke murmured sotto voce to Bundle:

“Tis a man like that that writes all those little
paragraphs in the weekly papers. ‘It is not generally
_known that to keep a brass fender uniformly bright,’
etc.; ‘The dorper beetle is one of the most interesting
characters in the insect world’; ‘The marriage customs
of the Fingalese Indians,’ and so on.”

“General information, in fact.”

“And what more horrible two words could you
have?” said Mr. O’Rourke, and added piously: “Thank
the heavens above I’m an educated man and know
nothing whatever upon any subject at all.”

254 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“T see you’ve got clock golf here,” said Bundle to
Lady Coote.

“T’ll take you on at it, Lady Eileen,” said O’Rourke.

“Let’s challenge those two,” said Bundle. “Loraine,
Mr. O’Rourke and I want to take you and Mr. Bate-
man on at clock golf.”

“Do play, Mr. Bateman,” said Lady Coote, as the
secretary showed a momentary hesitation. “I’m sure
Sir Oswald doesn’t want you.”

The four went out on the lawn.

“Very cleverly managed, what?” whispered Bundle
to Loraine. ‘Congratulations on our girlish tact.”

The round ended just before one o’clock, victory
going to Bateman and Loraine.

“But I think you'll agree with me, partner,” said Mr.
O’Rourke, “that we played a more sporting game.”

He lagged a little behind with Bundle.

“Old Pongo’s a cautious player—he takes no risks.
Now, with me it’s neck or nothing. And a fine motto
through life, don’t you agree, Lady Eileen?”

“Hasn’t it ever landed you in trouble?” asked
Bundle, laughing.

“To be sure it has. Millions of times. But I’m still
going strong. Sure, it'll take the hangman’s noose to
defeat Terence O’Rourke.” |

Just then Jimmy Thesiger strolled round the corner
of the house.

“Bundle, by all that’s wonderful!” he exclaimed.

“You’ve missed competing in the Autumn Meeting,”
said O’Rourke.

SUSPICIONS 255

“Td gone for a stroll,” said AR: “Where did
these girls drop from?”

“We came on our flat feet,’ said Bundle. “The
Hispano let us down.”

And she narrated the circumstances of the break-
down.

Jimmy listened with sympathetic attention.

“Hard luck,” he vouchsafed. “If it’s going to take
some time, Ill run you back in my car after lunch.”

A gong sounded at that moment and they all went in.
Bundle observed Jimmy covertly. She thought she
had noticed an unusual note of exultance in his voice.
She had the feeling that things had gone well.

After lunch they took a polite leave of Lady Coote,
and Jimmy volunteered to run them down to the garage
in his car. As soon as they had started the same word
burst simultaneously from both girls’ lips:

“Well?”

Jimmy chose to be provoking.

“Well?”

“Oh, pretty hearty, thanks. Slight indigestion owing
to over indulgence in dry biscuits.”

“But what has happened?”

“T tell you. Devotion to the cause made me eat too
many dry biscuits. But did our hero flinch? No,
he did not.” .

“Oh, Jimmy,” said Loraine reproachfully, and he
softened. .

“What do you really want to know?”

“Oh, everything. Didn’t we do it well? I mean,

256 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

the way we kept Pongo and Terence O’Rourke in play.”

“T congratulate you on the handling of Pongo.
O’Rourke was probably a sitter—but Pongo is made of
other stuff. There’s only one word for that lad—it
was in the Sunday Newsbag cross-word last week.
Word of ten letters meaning everywhere at once. Ubiq-
uitous. That describes Pongo down to the ground.
You can’t go anywhere without running into him—and
the worst of it is you never hear him coming.”

“You think he’s dangerous?”

“Dangerous? Of course he’s not dangerous. Fancy
Pongo being dangerous. He’s an ass. But, as I said
just now, he’s an ubiquitous ass. He doesn’t even seem
to need sleep like ordinary mortals. In fact, to put it
bluntly, the fellow’s a damned nuisance.”

And, in a somewhat aggrieved manner, Jimmy de-
scribed the events of the previous evening.

Bundle was not very sympathetic.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing anyway,
mouching round here.”

“No. 7,” said Jimmy crisply. ‘“That’s what I’m
after. No. 7.”

“And you think you’ll find him in this house?”

“T thought I might find a clue.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Not last night—no.”

“But this morning,” said Loraine, breaking in sud-
denly. “Jimmy, you did find something this morning.
I can see it by your face.”

SUSPICIONS 257

“Well, I don’t know if it is payline. But during
the course of my stroll—”

“Which stroll didn’t take you far from the house, I
imagine.”

“Strangely enough, it didn’t. Round trip in the in-
terior, we might call it. Well, as I say, I don’t know
whether there’s anything in it or not. But I found
this.”

With the celerity of a conjuror he produced a small
bottle and tossed it over to the girls. It was half full
of a white powder.

“What do you think it is?” asked Bundle.

“A white crystalline powder, that’s what it is,” said
Jimmy. “And to any reader of detective fiction those
words are both familiar and suggestive. Of course,
if it turns out to be a new kind of patent tooth-powder,
I shall be chagrined and annoyed.”

“Where did you find it?” asked Bundle sharply:

“Ah!” said Jimmy, “that’s my secret.”

And from that point he would not budge in spite of
cajolery and insult.

“Here we are at the garage,” he said. “Let’s hope
the high-mettled Hispano has not been subjected to any
indignities.”

The gentleman at the garage presented a bill for five
shillings and made a few vague remarks about loose
nuts. Bundle paid him with a sweet smile.

“Tt’s nice to know we all get money for nothing
sometimes,” she murmured to Jimmy.

258 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

The three stood together in the road, silent for the
moment as they each pondered the situation.

“T know,” said Bundle suddenly.

“Know what?”

“Something I meant to ask you—and nearly forgot.
Do you remember that glove that Superintendent Battle
found—the half-burnt one?”

“Ves,”

“Didn’t you say that he tried it on your hand?”

“Ves—it was a shade big. That fits in with the idea
of its being a big, hefty man who wore it.”

“That’s not at all what I’m bothering about. Never
mind the size of it. George and Sir Oswald were both
there too, weren’t they?”

‘Ves ??

“He could have given it to either of them to fit on?”

“Yes, of course—” ;

“But he didn’t. He chose you. Jimmy, don’t you
see what that means?”

Mr. Thesiger stared at her.

“T’m sorry, Bundle. Possibly the jolly old brain
isn’t functioning as well as usual, but I haven’t the
faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you see, Loraine?”

Loraine looked at her curiously, but shook her head.

“Does it mean anything in particular?”

“Of course it does. Don’t you see—Jimmy had his
right hand in a sling.”

“By Jove, Bundle,” said Jimmy slowly. “It was
rather odd now I come to think of it; its being a left

SUSPICIONS 259

hand glove, I mean. Battle never said anything.”

“He wasn’t going to draw attention to it. By trying
it on you it might pass without notice being drawn to
it, and he talked about the size just to put everybody
off. But surely it must mean that the man who shot at
you held the pistol in his /eft hand.”

“So we’ve got to look for a left-handed man,” said
Loraine thoughtfully.

“Yes, and I'll tell you another thing. That was what
Battle was doing looking through the golf clubs. He
was looking for a left-handed man’s.”

“By Jove,” said Jimmy suddenly.

“What is it?”

“Well, I don’t suppose there’s anything in it, but it’s
rather curious.”

He retailed the conversation at tea the day before.

“So Sir Oswald Coote is ambidextrous?” said Bundle. ©

“Yes. And I remember now on that night at Chim-
neys—you know, the night Gerry Wade died—I was
watching the bridge and thinking idly how awkwardly
someone was dealing—and then realizing that it was
because they were dealing with the left hand. Of
course, it must have been Sir Oswald.”

They all three looked at each other. Loraine shook
her head.

“A man like Sir Oswald Coote! It’s impossible.
What could he have to gain by it?”

“Tt seems absurd,” said Jimmy. “And yet—”

“No. 7 has his own ways of working,” quoted Bundle

260 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

softly. ‘Supposing this is the way Sir Oswald has
really made his fortune?”

“But why stage all that comedy at the Abbey when
he’d had the formula at his own works.”

“There might be ways of explaining that,” said Lor-
aine. ‘The same line of argument you used about Mr.
O’Rourke. Suspicion had to be diverted from him and
placed in another quarter.”

Bundle nodded eagerly.

“Tt all fits in. Suspicion is to fall on Bauer and the

* Countess. Who on earth would ever dream of sus-
pecting Sir Oswald Coote?”

“TI wonder if Battle does,” said Jimmy slowly.

Some chord of memory vibrated in Bundle’s mind.
Superintendent Batile plucking an ivy leaf off the mil-
lionaire’s coat.

Had Battle suspected all the time?

CHAPTER XXIX
SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE LOMAX

“Mr. Lomax is here, my lord.”

Lord Caterham started violently, for, absorbed in
the intricacies of what not to do with the left wrist,
he had not heard the butler approach over the soft turf.
He looked at Tredwell more in sorrow than in anger.

“T told you at breakfast, Tredwell, that I should be
particularly engaged this morning.”

“Yes, my lord, but—”

“Go and tell Mr. Lomax that you have made a mis-
take, that I am out in the village, that I am laid up with
the gout, or, if all else fails, that I am dead.”

“Mr. Lomax, my lord, has already caught sight of
your lordship when driving up the drive.”

Lord Caterham sighed deeply.

“He would. Very well, Tredwell, I am coming.” In
a manner highly characteristic, Lord Caterham was al-
ways most genial when his feelings were in reality the
reverse. He greeted George now with a heartiness quite
unparalleled.

_ “My dear fellow, my dear fellow. Delighted to see
you. Absolutely delighted. Sit down. Have a drink.
Well, well, this is splendid!”

And having pushed George into a large arm-chair, he

sat down opposite him and blinked nervously.
261

ae

262 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“T wanted to see you very particularly,” said George.

“Oh!” said Lord Caterham faintly, and his heart
sank, whilst his mind raced actively over all the dread
possibilities that might lie behind that simple phrase.

“Very particularly,” said George with heavy em-
phasis.

Lord Caterham’s heart sank lower than ever. He
felt that something was coming worse than anything he
had yet thought of.

“Yes?” he said, with a courageous attempt at non-
chalance.

“Ts Eileen at home?”

Lord Caterham felt reprieved, but slightly surprised.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Bundle’s here. Got that friend
of hers with her—the little Wade girl. Very nice girl—
very nice girl. Going to be quite a good golfer one day.
Nice easy swing—”

He was chatting garrulously on when George inter-
rupted with ruthlessness:

“T am glad Eileen is athome. Perhaps I might have
an interview with her presently?”

“Certainly, my dear fellow, certainly.” Lord Cater-
ham still felt very surprised, but was still enjoying the
sensation of reprieve. “If it doesn’t bore you.”

“Nothing could bore me less,” said George. “I
think, Caterham, if I may say so, that you hardly ap-
preciate the fact that Eileen is grown up. She is no
longer a child. She is a woman, and, if I may say so,
a very charming and talented woman. The man who

BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE LOMAX 263

succeeds in winning her love will be Sadat lucky. I
repeat it—extremely lucky.”

“Oh, I daresay,” said Lord Caterham. “But she’s
very restless, you know. Never content to be in one
place for more than two minutes together. However, I
daresay young fellows don’t mind that nowadays.”

“You mean that she is not content to stagnate.
Eileen has brains, Caterham; she is ambitious. She
interests herself in the questions of the day, and brings
her fresh and vivid young intellect to bear upon them.”

Lord Caterham stared at him. It occurred to him
that what was so often referred to as “the strain of
modern life,” had begun to tell upon George. Certainly
his description of Bundle seemed to Lord Caterham
ludicrously unlike.

“Are you sure you are feeling quite well?” he asked

anxiously.

George waved the inquiry aside impatiently.

“Perhaps, Caterham, you begin to have some inkling
of my purpose in visiting you this morning. I am not
a man to undertake fresh responsibilities lightly. I
have a proper sense, I hope, of what is due to the posi-
tion I hold. I have given this matter my deep and
earnest consideration. Marriage, especially at my age,
is not to be undertaken without full—er—considera-
tion. Equality of birth, similarity of tastes, general
suitability, and the same religious creed—all these
things are necessary and the pros and cons have to be
weighed and considered. I can, I think, offer my wife a
position in society that is not to be despised. Eileen

264 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

will grace that position admirably. By birth and breed-
ing she is fitted for it, and her brains and her acute po-
litical sense cannot but further my career to our mutual
advantage. I am aware, Caterham, that there is—er—
some disparity in years. But I can assure you that I
feel full of vigour—in my prime. The balance of years
should be on the husband’s side. And Eileen has seri-
ous tastes—an older man will suit her better than some
young jackanapes without either experience or savoir-
faire. I can assure you, my dear Caterham, that I will
cherish her—er—exquisite youth; I will cherish it—
er—it will be appreciated. To watch the exquisite
flower of her mind unfolding—what a privilege! And
to think that I never realized—”

He shook his head deprecatingly and Lord Caterham,
finding his voice with difficulty, said blankly:

“Do I understand you to mean—ah, my dear fellow,
you can’t want to marry Bundle?”

“You are surprised. I suppose to you it seems ae
den. I have your permission, then, to speak to her?”

“Oh, yes,” said Lord Caterham. “If it’s permission
you want—of course you can. But you know, Lomax,
I really shouldn’t if I were you. Just go home and
think it over like a good fellow. Count twenty. All
that sort of thing. Always a pity to propose and make
a fool of yourself.”

“I daresay you mean your advice kindly, Caterham,
though I must confess that you put it somewhat
strangely. But I have made up my mind to put my
fortune to the test. I may see Eileen?”

BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE LOMAX 265

“Oh, it’s nothing to do with me,” said Lord Caterham
hastily; ‘Eileen settles her own affairs. If she came
to me to-morrow and said she was going to marry the
chauffeur, I shouldn’t make any objections. It’s the
only way nowadays. Your children can make life
damned unpleasant if you don’t give in to them in every
way. I say to Bundle, ‘Do as you like, but don’t worry
me,’ and really, on the whole, she is amazingly good
about it.”

George stood up, intent upon his purpose.

“Where shall I find her?”

“Well, really, I don’t know,” said Lord Caterham
vaguely. “She might be anywhere. As I told you just
now, she’s never in the same place for two minutes
together. No repose.”

“And I suppose Miss Wade will be with her? It
seems to me, Caterham, that the best plan would be for
you to ring the bell and ask your butler to find her,
saying that I wish to speak to her for a few minutes.”

Lord Caterham pressed the bell obediently.

“Oh, Tredwell,” he said, when the bell was answered,
“just find her ladyship, will you? Tell her Mr. Lomax
is anxious to speak to her in the drawing-room.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Tredwell withdrew. George seized Lord Caterham’s
hand and wrung it warmly, much to the latter’s discom-
fort. 5

“‘A thousand thanks,” he said. “I hope soon to bring
you good news.”

He hastened from the room.

266 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Well,” said Lord Caterham. “Well!”

And after a long pause:

“What kas Bundle been up to?”

The door opened again.

“Mr. Eversleigh, my lord.”

As Bill hastened in, Lord Caterham caught his hand
and spoke earnestly.

“Hullo, Bill. You’re looking for Lomax, I suppose?
Look here, if you want to do a good turn, hurry into
the drawing-room and tell him the Cabinet have called
an immediate meeting, or get him away somehow. It’s
really not fair to let the poor devil make an ass of
himself all for some silly girl’s prank.”

“T’ve not come for Codders,” said Bill. ‘“Didn’t
know he was here. It’s Bundle I want to see. Is she
anywhere about?”

“You can’t see her,” said Lord Caterham. “Not
just now, at any rate. George is with her.”

““Well—what does it matter?”

“T think it does rather,” said Lord Caterham. ‘“He’s
probably spluttering horribly at this minute, and we
mustn’t do anything to make it worse for him.”

“But what is he saying?”

“Heavens knows,” said Lord Caterham. “A lot of
damned nonsense, anyway. Never say too much, that
was always my motto. Grab the girl’s hand and let
events take their course.”

Bill stared at him.

“But look here, sir, I’m in a hurry. I must talk to
Bundle—”

BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE LOMAX 267

“Well, I don’t suppose you'll have to wait long. I
must confess I’m rather glad to have you here with me
—I suppose Lomax will insist on coming back and talk-
ing to me when it’s all over.”

“When what’s all over? What is Lomax supposed to
be doing?”

“Hush,” said Lord Caterham. ‘“He’s proposing.”

“Proposing? Proposing what?”

“Marriage. To Bundle. Don’t ask me why. I sup-
pose he’s come to what they call the dangerous age. I
can’t explain it any other way.”

“Proposing to Bundle? The dirty swine. At his
age.”

Bill’s face grew crimson.

“He says he’s in the prime of life,” said Lord Cater-
ham cautiously.

“Fie? Why, he’s decrepit—senile! I—” Bill posi-
tively choked.

“Not at all,” said Lord Caterham coldly. ‘“He’s five
years younger than I am.”

“Of all the damned cheek! Codders and Bundle!
A girl like Bundle! You oughtn’t to have allowed it.”

“T never interfere,” said Lord Caterham.

“You ought to have told him what you thought of
him.”

“Unfortunately modern civilization rules that out,”
said Lord Caterham regretfully. “In the Stone Age
now—but, dear me, I suppose even then I shouldn’t
be able to do it—being a small man.”

“Bundle! Bundle! Why, I’ve never dared to ask

268 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Bundle to marry me because I knew she’d only laugh.
And George—a disgusting wind-bag, an unscrupulous,
hypocritical old hot-air merchant—a foul, poisonous
self advertiser—”

“Go on,” said Lord Caterham. “I’m enjoying this.”

“My God!” said Bill simply and with feeling. “Look
here, I must be off.”

“No, no, don’t go. I’d much rather you stayed. Be-
sides, you want to see Bundle.”

“Not now. This has driven everything else out of
my head. You don’t know where Jimmy Thesiger is by
any chance? I believe he was staying with the Cootes.
Is he there still?”

“T think he went back to town yesterday. Bundle
and Loraine were over there on Saturday. If you'll
only wait—”

But Bill shook his head energetically and rushed
from the room. Lord Caterham tiptoed out into the
hall, seized a hat and made a hurried exit by the side
door. In the distance he observed Bill streaking down
the drive in his car.

“That young man will have an accident,” he thought.

Bill, however, reached London without any mis-
chance, and proceeded to park his car in St. James’s
Square. Then he sought out Jimmy Thesiger’s rooms.
Jimmy was at home.

“Hullo, Bill. I say, what’s the matter? You don’t
look your usual bright little self.”

“T’m worried,” said Bill. “I was worried anyway,

BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE LOMAX 269

and then something else turned up and gave me a jolt.”

“Oh!” said Jimmy. “How lucid. -What’s it all
about? Can I do anything?”

Bill did not reply. He sat staring at the carpet and
looking so puzzled and uncomfortable that Jimmy felt
his curiosity aroused.

“Has anything very extraordinary occurred, Wil-
liam?” he asked gently.

“Something damned odd. I can’t make head or tail
of it?”

“The Seven Dials business?”

““Yes—the Seven Dials business. I got a letter this
morning.” —

“A letter? What sort of a letter?”

“A letter from Ronny Devereux’s executors.”

“Good Lord! After all this time!”

“Tt seems he left instructions. If he was to die sud-
denly, a certain sealed envelope was to be sent to me
exactly a fortnight after his death.”

“And they’ve sent it to you?”

“Ves.”

*‘You’ve opened it?”

Ves.”

“Well—what did it say?”

Bill turned a glance upon him, such a strange and
uncertain one that Jimmy was startled.

“Look here,” he said. ‘Pull yourself together, old
man. It seems to have knocked the wind out of you,
whatever it is. Have a drink.”

270 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

He poured out a stiff whisky and soda and brought
it over to Bill, who took it obediently. His face still
bore the same dazed expression.

“Tt’s what’s in the letter,” he said. “I simply can’t
believe it, that’s all.”

“Oh, nonsense,” said Jimmy. “You must get into
the habit of believing six impossible things before
breakfast. I do it regularly. Now then, let’s hear all
about it. Wait a minute.”

He went outside.

“Stevens?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just go out and get me some cigarettes, will you?
I’ve run out.”

“Very good, sir.”

Jimmy waited till he heard the front door close.
Then he came back into the sitting-room. Bill was just
in the act of setting down his empty glass. He looked
better, more purposeful and more master of himself.

“Now then,” said Jimmy. “I’ve sent Stevens out
so that we can’t be overheard. Are you going to tell me
all about it?”

“Tt’s so incredible.”

“Then it’s sure to be true. Come on, out with it.”

Bill drew a deep breath.

“T will. Tl tell you everything.”

CHAPTER XXX
AN URGENT SUMMONS

LoraINE, playing with a small and delectable puppy,
was somewhat surprised when Bundle rejoined her after
an absence of twenty minutes, in a breathless state and
with an indescribable expression on her face.
“Whoof,” said Bundle, sinking on to a garden seat.
“Whoof. ”
“What’s the matter?” asked Loraine, looking at her

curiously.
“George is the matter—George Lomax.”
“What’s he been doing?”

“Proposing to me. It was awful. He spluttered and
- he stuttered, but he would go through with it—he must
have learnt it out of a book, I think. There was no
stopping him. Oh, how I hate men who splutter! And,
unfortunately, I didn’t know the reply.”

“You must have known what you wanted to do.”

“Naturally I’m not going to marry an apoplectic
idiot like George. What I mean is, I didn’t know the
correct reply from the book of etiquette. I could only
just say flatly: ‘No, I won’t.’ What I ought to have
said was something about being very sensible of the
honour he had done me and so on and so on. But I
got so rattled that in the end I jumped out of the win-

dow and bolted.”
271

272 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Really, Bundle, that’s not like you.”

“Well, I never dreamt of such a thing happening.
George—who I always thought hated me—and he did
too. What a fatal thing it is to pretend to take an in-
terest in a’‘man’s pet subject. You should have heard
the drivel George talked about my girlish mind and the
pleasure it would be to form it. My mind! If George
knew one quarter of what was going on in my mind,
he’d faint with horror!”

Loraine laughed. She couldn’t help it.

“Oh, I know it’s my own fault. I let myself in for
this. There’s Father dodging round that rhododendron.
Hallo, Father.”

Lord Caterham approached with a hangdog expres-
sion,

“Lomax gone, eh?” he remarked with somewhat
forced geniality.

“A nice business you let me in for,” said Bundle.
“George told me he had your full approval and sanc-
tion.” ;

“Well,” said Lord Caterham, “what did you ex-
pect me to say? As a matter of fact, I didn’t say that
at all, or anything like it.”

“T didn’t really think so,” said Bundle. “I assumed
that George had talked you into a corner and reduced
you to such a state that you could only nod your head
feebly.”

“That’s very much what happened. How did he
take it? Badly?” .

AN URGENT SUMMONS 273

“I didn’t wait to see,” said Bundle. “I’m afraid
I was rather abrupt.”

“Oh, well,” said Lord Caterham, ae that was
the best way. Thank goodness in the future Lomax
won’t always be running over as he has been in the
habit of doing, worrying me about things. Everything
is for the best they say. Have you seen my jigger
anywhere?”

“A mashie shot or two would steady my nerves, I
think,” said Bundle. “I'll take you on for sixpence,
Loraine.”

An hour passed very peacefully. The three returned
to the house in a harmonious spirit. A note lay on the
hall table.

“Mr. Lomax left that for you, my lord,” explained
Tredwell. “He was much disappointed to find that you
had gone out.”

Lord Caterham tore it open. He uttered a pained
ejaculation and. turned upon his daughter. Tredwell
had retired.

“Really, Bundle, you might have made yourself clear,
hd think,”

“What do you mean?”
“Well, read this.”
Bundle took it and read:

“Wi DEAR CATERHAM—I am sorry not to have had
a word with you. I thought I made it clear that I
wanted to see you again after my interview with Eileen.
She, dear child, was evidently quite unaware of the feel-

274 +THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

ings I entertained towards her. She was, I am afraid,
much startled. I have no wish to hurry her in any way.
Her girlish confusion was very charming, and I enter-
tain an even higher regard for her, as I much appreciate
her maidenly reserve. I must give her time to become
accustomed to the idea. Her very confusion shows
that she is not wholly indifferent to me and I have no
doubts of my ultimate success.
“Believe me, dear Caterham,
“Your sincere friend,
“GEORGE LOMAX.”

“Well,” said Bundle. “Well, I’m damned!”

Words failed her.

“The man must be mad,” said Lord Caterham. “No
one could write those things about you, Bundle, unless
they were slightly touched in the head. Poor chap,
poor chap. But what persistence! I don’t wonder he
got into the Cabinet. It would serve him right if you
did marry him, Bundle.”

The telephone rang and Bundle moved forward to
answer it. In another minute George and his proposal
were forgotten, and she was beckoning eagerly to Lor-
aine. Lord Caterham went off to his own sanctum.

“It’s Jimmy,” said Bundle. “And he’s tremendously
excited about something.”

“Thank goodness I’ve caught you,” said Jimmy’s
voice. “There’s no time to be lost. Loraine’s there,
too?”

“Yes, she’s here.”

AN URGENT SUMMONS 275

“Well, look here, I haven’t got time to explain every-
thing— in fact, I can’t through the telephone. But Bill
has been round to see me with the most amazing story
you ever heard. If it’s true—well, if it’s true, it’s the
biggest scoop of the century. Now, look here, this is
what you’ve got to do. Come up to town at once, both
of you. Garage the car somewhere and go straight to
the Seven Dials Club. Do you think that when you get
there you can get rid of that footman fellow?”

“Alfred? Rather. You leave that to me.”

“Good. Get rid of him and watch out for me and
Bill. Don’t show yourselves at the windows, but when
we drive up, let us in at once. See?”

‘Vag 77

“That’s all right then. Oh, Bundle, don’t let on that
you’re going up to town. Make some other excuse.
Say you’re taking Loraine home. How would that do?”

“Spiendidly. I say, Jimmy, I’m thrilled to the core.”

“And you might as well make your will before
starting.”

“Better and better. But I wish I knew what it was
all about.”

“Vou will as soon as we meet. I'll tell you this much.

We're going to get ready the hell of a surprise for
No. 7!”
_ Bundle hung up the receiver and turned to Loraine,
giving her a rapid résumé of the conversation. Loraine
rushed upstairs and hurriedly packed her suitcase, and
Bundle put her head round her father’s door.

“T’m taking Loraine home, Father.” -

276 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“Why? I had no idea she was going to-day.”

“They want her back,” said Bundle vaguely. “Just
telephoned. Bye-bye.”

“Here, Bundle, wait a minute. When will you be
home?”

“Don’t know. Expect me when you see me.”

With this unceremonious exit Bundle rushed up-
stairs, put a hat on, slipped into her fur coat and was
ready to start. She had already ordered the Hispano
to be brought round.

The journey to London was without adventure, ex-
cept such as was habitually provided by Bundle’s driv-
ing. They left the car at a garage and proceeded direct
to the Seven Dials Club.

The door was opened to them by Alfred. Bundle
pushed her way past him without ceremony and Lor-
aine followed.

“Shut the door, Alfred,” said Bundle. ‘Now, I’ve
come here SDREIRIY. to do you a goodturn. The police
are after you.”

“Oh, my lady!”

Alfred turned chalk white.

“T’ve come to warn you because you did me a good
turn the other night,” went on Bundle rapidly.
“There’s a warrant out for Mr. Mosgorovsky, and the
best thing you can do is to clear out of here as quick
as youcan. If you’re not found here, they won’t bother
about you. Here’s ten pounds to hal you get away
somewhere.”

a 5
\

AN URGENT SUMMONS 277

In three minutes’ time an incoherent and badly
scared Alfred had left 14 Hunstanton Street with only
one idea in his head—never to return.

“Well, I’ve managed that all right,” said Bundle
with satisfaction.

“Was it necessary to be so—well, drastic?” Loraine
demurred.

“Tt’s safer,” said Bundle. “I don’t know what
Jimmy and Bill are up to, but we don’t want Alfred
coming back in the middle of it and wrecking every-
thing. Hallo, here they are. Well, they haven’t wasted
much time. Probably watching round the corner to see
Alfred leave. Go down and open the door to them,
Loraine.”

Loraine obeyed. Jimmy Thesiger alighted from the
driving seat.

“You stop there for a moment, Bill,” he said. “Blow
the horn if you think anyone’s watching the place.”

He ran up the steps and banged the door behind him.
He looked pink and elated.

“Hallo, Bundle, there you are. Now then, we’ve got
to get down to it. Where’s the key of the room you got
into last time?”

“Tt was one of the downstairs keys. We'd better
bring the lot up.”

“Right you are, but be quick. Time’s short.”

The key was easily found, the baize-lined door swung
back and the three entered. The room was exactly as
Bundle had seen it before, with the seven chairs

278 | THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY |

grouped round the table. Jimmy surveyed it for a
minute or two in silence. Then his eye went to the two
cupboards.

“Which is the cupboard you hid in, Bundle?”

“This one.”

Jimmy went to it and flung the door open. The
same collection of miscellaneous glassware covered the
shelves.

“We shall have to shift all this stuff,” he murmured.
“Run down and get Bill, Loraine. There’s no need for
him to keep watch outside any longer.”

Loraine ran off.

“What are you going to do?” inquired Bundle im-
patiently.

Jimmy was down on his knees, trying to peer through
the crack of the other cupboard door.

“Wait till Bill comes and you shall hear the whole
story. This is his staff work—and a jolly creditable
bit of work it is. Hallo—what’s Loraine flying up the
stairs for as though she’d got a mad bull after her?”

Loraine was indeed racing up the stairs as fast as she
could. She burst in upon them with an ashen face and
terror in her eyes.

“Bill—Bill—oh, Bundle—Bill!”

“What about Bill?”

Jimmy caught her by the shoulder.

“For God’s sake, Loraine, what’s happened?”

Loraine was still gasping.

“Bill—I think he’s dead—he’s in the car still—but
he doesn’t move or speak. I’m sure he’s dead.”

AN URGENT SUMMONS 279

Jimmy muttered an oath and sprang for the stairs,
Bundle behind him, her heart pounding unevenly and
an awful feeling of desolation spreading over her.

Bill—dead? Oh, no! Oh, no! Not that. Please
God—not that.

Together she and Jimmy reached the car, Loraine
behind them.

Jimmy peered under the hood. Bill was sitting as he
had left him, leaning back. But his eyes were closed
and Jimmy’s pull at his arm brought no response.

“T can’t understand it,” muttered Jimmy. “But he’s
not dead. Cheer up, Bundle. Look here, we’ve got
to get him into the house. Let’s pray to goodness no
policeman comes along. If anybody says anything, he’s
our sick friend we’re helping into the house.”

Between the three of them they got Bill into the
house without much difficulty, and without attracting
- much attention, save for an unshaven gentleman, who
said sympathetically:

“Genneman’s ’ad a couple, I shee,” and nodded his
head sapiently.

_“Tnto the little back room downstairs,” said Jimmy.
“There’s a sofa there.”

They got him safely on to the sofa and Bundle knelt
down beside him and took his limp wrist in her hand.

“His pulse is beating,” she said. “What is the
matter with him?” ;

“He was all right when I left him just now,” said
Jimmy. “I wonder if someone’s managed to inject
some stuff into him. It would be easily done—just a

280 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

prick. The man might have been asking him the time.
There’s only one thing for it. I must get a doctor at
once. You stay here and look after him.”

He hurried to the door, then paused.

“Took here—don’t be scared, either of you. But I’d
better leave you my revolver. I mean—just in case.
I'll be back just as soon as I possibly can.”

He laid the revolver down on the little table by the
sofa, then hurried off. They heard the front door bang
behind him.

The house seemed very still now. The two girls
stayed motionless by Bill. Bundle still kept her finger
on his pulse. It seemed to be beating very fast and
irregularly.

“TI wish we could do something,” she whispered to
Loraine. “This is awful.”

Loraine nodded.

“T know. It seems ages since Jimmy went and yet
it’s only a minute and a half.”

“I keep hearing things,” said Bundle. “Footsteps
and boards creaking upstairs—and yet I know it’s only
imagination.”

“TI wonder why Jimmy left us the revolver,” said
Loraine. “There can’t really be danger.”

“If they could get Bill—” said Bundle and stopped.
Loraine shivered.

“I know—but we’re in the house. Nobody can get
in without our hearing them. And anyway we’ve got
the revolver.”

Bundle turned her attention back again to Bill. —

AN URGENT SUMMONS 281

“T wish I knew what to do. Hot coffee. You give
them that sometimes.”

“T’ve got some smelling-salts in my bag,” said Lor-
aine. “And some brandy. Where is it? Oh, I must
have left it in the room upstairs.”

“T’ll get it,’ said Bundle. “They might do some
good.”

She sped quickly up the stairs, across the gaming
room and through the open door into the meeting place.
Loraine’s bag was lying on the table.

As Bundle stretched out her hand to take it, she
heard a noise from behind her. Hidden behind the door
a man stood ready with a sand-bag in his hand. Be-
fore Bundle could turn her head, he had struck.

With a faint moan, Bundle slipped down, an uncon-
scious heap, upon the floor.

CHAPTER XXXI
THE SEVEN DIALS

Very slowly Bundle returned to consciousness. She
was aware of a dark, spinning blackness, the centre
of which was a violent, throbbing ache. Punctuating
this were sounds. A voice that she knew very well
saying the same thing over and over again.

The blackness span less violently. The ache was
now definitely located as being in Bundle’s own head.
And she was sufficiently herself to take an interest in
what the voice was saying.

“Darling, darling Bundle. Oh, darling Bundle.
She’s dead; I know she’s dead. Oh, my darling.
Bundle, darling, darling Bundle. I do love you so.
Bundle—darling—darling—”

Bundle lay quite still with her eyes shut. But she
was now fully conscious. Bill’s arms held her closely.

“Bundle, darling— Oh, dearest, darling Bundle.
Oh, my dear love. Oh, Bundle—Bundle. What shall I
do? Oh, darling one—my Bundle—my own dearest,
sweetest Bundle. Oh, God, what shall I do? I’ve
killed her. I’ve killed her.”

Reluctantly—very reluctantly—Bundle spoke.

“No, you haven’t, you silly idiot,” she said.

Bill gave a gasp of utter amazement.

“Bundle—you’re alive?”

282

THE SEVEN DIALS 283

“Of course I’m alive.”

“How long have you been—I mean when did you
come to?”

“About five minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you open your eyes—or say some-
thing?”

“Didn’t want to. I was enjoying myself.”

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes. Listening to all the things you were saying.
You'll never say them so well again. You'll be too
beastly self-conscious.”

Bill had turned a dark brick-red.

“Bundle—you really didn’t mind? You know, I do
love you so. I have for ages. But I never have dared
tell you so.”

“You silly juggins,” said Bundle. “Why?”

“T thought you’d only laugh at me. I mean—you’ve
got brains and all that—you’ll marry some bigwig.”

“Like George Lomax?” suggested Bundle.

“T don’t mean a fatuous ass like Codders. But some
really fine chap who'll be worthy of you—though I
don’t think anyone could be that,” ended Bill.

“You’re rather a dear, Bill.”

“But, Bundle, seriously, could you ever? I mean,
could you ever bring yourself to?”

“Could I ever bring myself to do what?”

“Marry me. I know I’m awfully thick-headed—
but I do love you, Bundle. I’d be your dog or your
slave or your anything.”

“You're very like a dog,” said Bundle. “TI like dogs.

284 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

They’re so friendly and faithful and warmhearted. I
think that perhaps I could just bring myself to marry
you, Bill—with a great effort, you know.”

Bill’s response to this was to relinquish his grasp of
her and recoil violently. He looked at her with amaze-
ment in his eyes.

“Bundle—you don’t mean it?”

“There’s nothing for it,” said Bundle. “I see I
shall have to relapse into unconsciousness again.”

“Bundle—darling—” Bill caught her to him. He
was trembling violently. ‘“Bundle—do you really
mean it—do you?—you don’t know how much I love
you.”

“Oh, Bill,” said Bundle.

There is no need to describe in detail the conversa-
tion of the next ten minutes. It consisted mostly of
repetitions.

“And do you really love me,” said Bill, incredulously,
for the twentieth time as he at last released her.

“Yes—yes—yes. Now do let’s be sensible. I’ve
got a racking head still, and I’ve been nearly squeezed
to death by you. I want to get the hang of things,
Where are we and what’s happened?”

For the first time, Bundle began to take stock of her
surroundings. They were in the secret room, she noted,
and the baize door was closed and presumably locked.
They were prisoners, then!

Bundle’s eyes came back to Bill. Quite oblivious
of her question he was watching her with adoring eyes.

THE SEVEN DIALS 285

“Bill, darling,” said Bundle, “pull yourself together.
We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Eh?” said Bill. “What? Oh, yes. That’ll be all
right. No difficulty about that.”

“Tt’s being in love makes you feel like that,” said
Bundle. “I feel rather the same myself. As though
everything’s easy and possible.”

“So it is,” said Bill. ‘Now that I know you care
for me—”

“Stop it,” said Bundle. “Once we begin again any
serious conversation will be hopeless. Unless you pull
yourself together and become sensible, I shall very
likely change my mind.”

“JT shan’t let you,” said Bill. “You don’t think that
once having got you I’d be such a fool as to let you go,
do you?”

“You would not coerce me against my will, I hope,”
said Bundle grandiloquently.

“‘Wouldn’t I?” said Bill. “You just watch me do it,
that’s all.” ,

“You really are rather a darling, Bill. I was afraid
you might be too meek, but I see there’s going to be
no danger of that. In another half hour you’d be
ordering me about. Oh, dear, we’re getting silly again.
Now, look here, Bill, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“T tell you that'll be quite all right. I shall—”

He broke off, obedient to a pressure from Bundle’s
hand. She was leaning forward, listening intently.
Yes, she had not been mistaken. A step was crossing

286 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

the outer room. The key was thrust into the lock and
turned. Bundle held her breath. Was it Jimmy com-
ing to rescue them—or was it someone else?

The door opened and the black-bearded Mr. Mos-
gorovsky stood on the threshold.

Immediately Bill took a step forward, standing in
front of Bundle.

“Look here,” he said, “I want a word with you
privately.”

The Russian did not reply for a minute or two. He
stood stroking his long, silky, black beard and smiling
quietly to himself.

“So,” he said at last, “it is like that. Very well.
The lady will be pleased to come with me.”

“Tt’s all right, Bundle,” said Bill. ‘Leave it to me.
You go with this chap. Nobody’s going to hurt you.
I know what I’m doing.”

Bundle rose obediently. That note of authority in
Bill’s voice was new to her. He seemed absolutely sure
of himself and confident of being able to deal with the
situation. Bundle wondered vaguely what it was that
Bill had—or thought he had—up his sleeve.

She passed out of the room in front of the Russian.
He followed her, closing the door behind him and
locking it.

“This way, please,” he said.

He indicated the staircase and she mounted obedi-
ently to the floor above. Here she was directed to pass
into a small, frowsy room, which she took to be Alfred’s
bedroom.

THE SEVEN DIALS 287

Mosgorovsky said: “You will wait — quietly,
please. There must be no noise.”

Then he went out, closing the door behind him and
locking her in.

Bundle sat down on a chair. Her head was aching
badly still and she felt incapable of sustained thought.
Biil seemed to have the situation well in hand. Sooner
or later, she supposed, someone would come and let
her out.

The minutes passed. Bundle’s watch had stopped,
but she judged that over an hour had passed since the
Russian had brought her here. What was happening?
What, indeed, sad happened?

At last she heard footsteps on the stairs. It was
Mosgorovsky once more. He spoke very formally to
her.

“Lady Eileen Brent, you are wanted at an emergency
meeting of the Seven Dials Society. Please follow
me.”

He led the way down the stairs and Bundle followed
him. He opened the door of the secret chamber
and Bundle passed in, catching her breath in surprise
as she did so.

She was seeing for the second time what she had
only had a glimpse of the first time through her peep-
hole. The masked figures were sitting round the table.
As she stood there, taken aback by the suddenness of
it, Mosgorovsky slipped into his pete, adjusting his
clock mask as he did so.

288 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

But this time the chair at the head of the table was
occupied. No. 7 was in his place.

Bundle’s heart beat violently. She was standing at
the foot of the table directly facing him and she stared
and stared-at the mocking piece of hanging stuff, with
the clock dial on it, that hid his features.

He sat quite immovable and Bundle got an odd sen-
sation of power radiating from him. His inactivity was
not the inactivity of weakness—and she wished vio-
lently, almost hysterically, that he would speak—that
he would make some sign, some gesture—not just sit
there like a gigantic spider in the middle of its web
waiting remorselessly for its prey.

She shivered and as she did so Mosgorovsky rose.
His voice, smooth, silky, persuasive, seemed curiously
far away.

“Lady Eileen, you have been present unasked at the
secret councils of this society. It is therefore necessary
that you should identify yourself with our aims and
ambitions. The place 2 o’clock, you may notice, is
vacant. It is that place that is offered to you.”

Bundle gasped. The thing was like a fantastic
nightmare. Was it possible that she, Bundle Brent,
was being asked to join a murderous secret society?
Had the same proposition been made to Bill, and had
he refused indignantly?

“T can’t do that,” she said bluntly.

“Do not answer precipitately.”

She fancied that Mosgorovsky, beneath his clock
mask, was smiling significantly into his beard.

THE SEVEN DIALS 289

“You do not as yet know, Lady Eileen, what it is you
are refusing.”

“T can make a pretty good guess,” said Bundle.

“Can you?”

It was the voice of 7 o’clock. It awoke some vague
chord of memory in Bundle’s brain. Surely she knew
that voice?

Very slowly No. 7 raised a hand to his head and
fumbled with the fastening of the mask.

Bundle held her breath. At last—she was going to
know.

The mask fell.

Bundle found herself looking into the expressionless,
wooden face of Superintendent Battle.

CHAPTER XXXII
BUNDLE IS DUMFOUNDED

“THat’s right,” said Battle, as Mosgorovsky leapt up
and came round to Bundle. “Geta chair for her. It’s
been a bit of a shock, I can see.”

Bundle sank down on a chair. She felt limp and

faint with surprise. Battle went on talking in a quiet, .

comfortable way wholly characteristic of him.

“You didn’t expect to see me, Lady Eileen. No,
and no more did some of the others sitting round this
table. Mr. Mosgorovsky’s been my lieutenant in a
manner of speaking. He’s been in the know all along.
But most of the others have taken their orders blindly
from him.”

Still Bundle said no word. She was—a most un-
usual state of affairs for her—simply incapable of
speech.

Battle nodded at her comprehendingly, seeming to
understand the state of her feelings.

“You'll have to get rid of one or two preconceived
ideas of yours, I’m afraid, Lady Eileen. About this
society, for instance—I know it’s common enough in
books—a secret organization of criminals with a mys-
terious super-criminal at the head of it whom no one
ever sees. That sort of thing may exist in real life, but
I can only say that I’ve never come across anything of

290

—

BUNDLE IS DUMFOUNDED 291

the sort, and I’ve had a good deal of Seige one
way or another.

“But there’s a lot of romance in the world, Lady
Eileen. People, especially young people, like reading
about such things, and they like still better really doing
them. I’m going to introduce you now to a very credit-
able band of amateurs that has done remarkably fine
work for my Department, work that nobody else could
have done. If they’ve chosen rather melodramatic
trappings, well, why shouldn’t they? They’ve been
willing to face real danger—danger of the very worst
kind—and they’ve done it for these reasons: love of
danger for its own sake—which to my mind is a very
healthy sign in these Safety First days—and an honest
wish to serve their country.

“And now, Lady Eileen, I’m going to introduce you.
First of all, there’s Mr. Mosgorovsky, whom you al-
ready know in a manner of speaking. As you’re aware,
he runs the club and he runs a host of other things too.
He’s our most valuable Secret Anti-Bolshevist Agent in
England. No. 5 is Count Andras of the Hungarian
Embassy, a very near and dear friend of the late Mr.
Gerald Wade. No. 4 is Mr. Hayward Phelps, an Amer-
ican journalist, whose British Eyinpeuss are very keen
and hose aptitude for scenting ‘news’ is remarkable.
No. 3—”

He stopped, smiling, and Bundle stared dumfounded
into the sheepish, grinning face of Bill Eversleigh.

“No. 2,” went on Battle in a graver voice, “can only
_ show an empty place. It is the place belonging to Mr.

292 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

Ronald Devereux, a very gallant young gentleman who
died for his country if any man ever did. No. 1—well,
No. 1 was Mr. Gerald Wade, another very gallant gen-
tleman who died in the same way. His place was
taken—not without some grave misgivings on my part
—by a lady—a lady who has proved her fitness to have
it and who has been a great help to us.”

The last to do so, No. 1, removed her mask, and
Bundle looked without surprise into the beautiful, dark
face of Countess Radzky.

“T might have known,” said Bundle resentfully,
“that you were too completely the beautiful foreign ad-
venturess to be anything of the kind really.”

“But you don’t know the real joke,” said Bill.
“Bundle, this is Babe St. Maur—you remember my
telling you about her and what a ripping actress she
was—and she’s about proved it.”

“That’s so,” said Miss St. Maur in pure transatlantic
nasal. “But it’s not a terrible lot of credit to me,
because Poppa and Momma came from that part of
Yurrup—so I got the patter fairly easy. Gee, but I
nearly gave myself away once at the Abbey, talking
about gardens.”

She paused and then said abruptly:

“It’s—it’s not been just fun. You see, I was kinder
engaged to Ronny, and when he handed in his checks
—well, I had to do something to track down the skunk
who murdered him. That’s all.”

“I’m completely bewildered,” said Bundle. “Noth-
ing is what it seems.”

BUNDLE IS DUMFOUNDED 2093

“It’s very simple, Lady Eileen,” said Superintendent
Battle. “It began with some of the young people
wanting a bit of excitement. It was Mr. Wade who
first got on to me. He suggested the formation of a
band of what you might call amateur workers to do a
bit of secret service work. I warned him that it might
be dangerous—but he wasn’t the kind to weigh that
in the balance. I made it plain to him that any one
who came in must do so on that understanding. But,
bless you, that wasn’t going to top any of Mr. Wade’ s
friends. And so the thing began.”

“But what was the object of it all?” asked Bundle.

“We wanted a certain man—wanted him badly. He
wasn’t an ordinary crook. He worked in Mr. Wade’s
world, a kind of Raffles, but much more dangerous than
any Raffles ever was or could be. He was out for
big stuff, international stuff. Twice already valuable
secret inventions had been stolen, and clearly stolen by
someone who had inside knowledge. The professionals
had had a try—and failed. Then the amateurs took
on—and succeeded.”

“Succeeded?”

“Ves—but they didn’t come out of it unscathed. The
man was dangerous. Two lives fell victim to him and
he got away with it. But the Seven Dials stuck to it.
And as I say, they succeeded. Thanks to Mr. Ever-
sleigh, the man was caught at last red-handed.”

“Who was he?” asked Bundle. “Do I know him?”

“You know him very well, Lady Eileen. His name

is ae Jimmy See and he was arrested this after-

noon.”

CHAPTER XXXIII
BATTLE EXPLAINS

SUPERINTENDENT BATTLE settled to explain. He spoke
comfortably and cozily.

“T didn’t suspect him myself for a long time. The
first hint of it I had was when I heard what Mr.
Devereux’s last words had been. Naturally, you took
them to mean that Mr. Devereux was trying to send
word to Mr. Thesiger that the Seven Dials had killed
him. That’s what the words seemed to mean on their
face value. But of course I knew that that couldn’t
be so. It was the Seven Dials that Mr. Devereux
wanted told—and what he wanted them told was some-
thing about Mr. Jimmy Thesiger.

“The thing seemed incredible, because Mr. Devereux
and Mr. Thesiger were close friends. But I remem-
bered something else—that these thefts must have been
committed by someone who was absolutely in the know.
Someone who, if not in the Foreign Office himself,
was in the way of hearing all its chit-chat. And I found
it very hard to find out where Mr. Thesiger got his
money. ‘The income his father left him was a small
one, yet he was able to live at a most expensive rate.
Where did the money come from?

“I knew that Mr. Wade had been very excited by
something that he had found out. He was quite sure

204

BATTLE EXPLAINS 295

that he was on the right track. He didn’t confide in
anyone about what he thought that track was, but he
did say something to Mr. Devereux about being on the
point of making sure. That was just before they both
went down to Chimneys for that week-end. As you
know, Mr. Wade died there—apparently from an over-
dose of a sleeping draught. It seemed straightforward
enough, but Mr. Devereux did not accept that explana-
tion for a minute. He was convinced that Mr. Wade
had been very cleverly put out of the way and that
someone in the house must actually be the criminal we
were all after. He came, I think, very near confiding
in Mr. Thesiger, for he certainly had no suspicions of
him at that moment. But something held him back.

“Then he did rather a curious thing. He arranged
seven clocks upon the mantelpiece, throwing away the
eighth. It was meant as a symbol that the Seven Dials
would revenge the death of one of their members—and
he watched eagerly to see if anyone betrayed them-
selves or showed signs of perturbation.”

“And it was Jimmy Thesiger who poisoned Gerry
Wade?”

“Yes, he slipped the stuff into a whisky and soda
which Mr. Wade had downstairs before retiring to bed.
That’s why he was already feeling sleepy whe he
wrote that letter to Miss Wade.”

“Then the footman, Bauer, hadn’t anything to do
with it?” asked Bundle.

“Bauer was one of our people, Lady Eileen. It was
thought likely that our crook would go for Herr Eber-

2096 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

hard’s invention and Bauer was got into the house to
watch events on our behalf. But he wasn’t able to do
much. As I say, Mr. Thesiger administered the fatal
dose easily enough. Later, when everyone was asleep,
a bottle, glass and empty chloral bottle were placed by
Mr. Wade’s bedside by Mr. Thesiger. Mr. Wade was
unconscious then, and his fingers were probably pressed
round the glass and the bottle so that they should be
found there if any questions should arise. I don’t know
what effect the seven clocks on the mantelpiece made
on Mr. Thesiger. He certainly didn’t let on anything
to Mr. Devereux. All the same, I think he had a bad
five minutes now and again thinking of them. And I
think he kept a pretty wary eye on Mr. Devereux
after that.

“We don’t know exactly what happened next. No
one saw much of Mr. Devereux after Mr. Wade’s death.
But it is clear that he worked along the same lines that
he knew Mr. Wade had been working on and reached
the same result—namely, that Mr. Thesiger was the
man. I fancy, too, that he was betrayed in the same
way.”

“You mean?”

“Through Miss Loraine Wade. Mr. Wade was
devoted to her—I believe he hoped to marry her—she
wasn’t really his sister, of course—and there is no doubt
that he told her more than he should have done. But
Miss Loraine Wade was devoted body and soul to Mr.
Thesiger. She would do anything he told her. She
passed on the information to him. In the same way,

BATTLE EXPLAINS 297

later, Mr. Devereux was attracted to her, and probably
warned her against Mr. Thesiger. So Mr. Devereux
in turn was silenced—and died trying to send word to
the Seven Dials that his murderer was Mr. Thesiger.”

“How ghastly,” cried Bundle. “If I had only
known.”

“Well, it didn’t seem likely. In fact, I could hardly
credit it myself. But then we came to the affair at
the Abbey. You will remember how awkward it was—
specially awkward for Mr. Eversleigh here. You
and Mr. Thesiger were hand in glove. Mr. Eversleigh
had already been embarrassed by your insisting on
being brought to this place, and when he found that
you had actually overheard what went on at a meeting,
he was dumfounded.”

The Superintendent paused and a twinkle came into
his eye.

“So was I, Lady Eileen. I never dreamed of such a
thing being possible. You put one over on me there
all right.

“Well, Mr. Eversleigh was in a dilemma. He
couldn’t let you into the secret of the Seven Dials with-
out letting Mr. Thesiger in also—and that would never
do. It all suited Mr. Thesiger very well, of course, for
it gave him a bona fide reason for getting himself asked
to the Abbey, which made things much easier for him.

“T may say that the Seven Dials had already sent a
warning letter to Mr. Lomax. That was to ensure
his applying to me for assistance, so that I should

_ be able to be on the spot in a perfectly natural man-

2098 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

ner. I made no secret of my presence, as you know.”

And again the Superintendent’s eyes twinkled.

“Well, ostensibly, Mr. Eversleigh and Mr. Thesiger
were to divide the night into two watches. Really, Mr.
Eversleigh and Miss St. Maur did so. She was on
guard at the library window when she heard Mr.
Thesiger coming and had to dart behind the screen.

“And now comes the cleverness of Mr. Thesiger.
Up to a point he told a perfectly true story, and I must
admit that with the fight and everything, I was dis-
tinctly shaken—and began to wonder whether he had
had anything to do with the theft at all, or whether we
were completely on the wrong track. There were one
or two suspicious circumstances that pointed in an en-
tirely different direction, and I can tell you I didn’t
know what to make of things, when something turned
up to clinch matters.

“T found the burnt glove in the fireplace with the
teeth marks on it—and then—well—I knew that I’d
been right after all. But, upon my word, he was a
clever one.”

“What actually happened?” said Bundle. ‘‘Who was
the other man?”

“There wasn’t any other man. Listen, and I’ll show
you how in the end I reconstructed the whole story. To
begin with, Mr. Thesiger and Miss Wade are in this
together. And they have a rendezvous for an exact
time. Miss Wade comes over in her car, climbs
through the fence and comes up to the house. She’s
got a perfectly good story if any one stops her—the one

BATTLE EXPLAINS 299

she told eventually. But she arrived unmolested on
the terrace just after the clock had struck two.

“Now, I may say to begin with that she was seen
coming in. My men saw her, but they had orders to
stop nobody coming in—only going out. I wanted,
you see, to find out as much as possible. Miss Wade
arrives on the terrace, and at that minute a parcel
falls at her feet and she picks it up. A man comes
down the ivy and she starts to run. What happens
next? The struggle—and presently the revolver shots.
What will everyone do? Rush to the scene of the fight.
And Miss Loraine Wade could have left the grounds
and driven off with the formula safely in her possession.

“But things don’t happen quite like that. Miss
Wade runs straight into my arms. And at that moment
the game changes. It’s no longer attack but defence.
_ Miss Wade tells her story. It is perfectly true and
perfectly sensible.

“And now we come to Mr. Thesiger. One thing
struck me at once. The bullet wound alone couldn’t
have caused him to faint. Either he had fallen and hit
his head—or—-well, he hadn’t fainted at all. Later we
had Miss St. Maur’s story. It agreed perfectly with
Mr. Thesiger’s—there was only one suggestive point.
Miss St. Maur said that after the lights were turned
out and Mr. Thesiger went over to the window, he was
so still that she thought he must have left the room and
gone outside. Now, if any one is in the room, you
can hardly help hearing their breathing if you are
listening for it. Supposing, then, that Mr. Thesiger

300 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

had gone outside. Where next? Up the ivy to Mr.
O’Rourke’s room—Mr. O’Rourke’s whisky and soda
having been doped the night before. He gets the
papers, throws them down to the girl, climbs down the
ivy again, and—starts the fight. That’s easy enough
when you come to think of it. Knock the tables
down, stagger about, speak in your own voice and then
in a hoarse half-whisper. And then, the final touch,
the two revolver shots. His own Colt automatic,
bought openly the day before, is fired at an imaginary
assailant. Then, with his left gloved hand, he takes
from his pocket the small Mauser pistol and shoots
himself through the fleshy part of the right arm. He
flings the pistol through the window, tears off the glove
with his teeth, and throws it into the fire. When I ar-
rive he is Iying on the floor in a faint.”

Bundle drew a deep breath.

“You didn’t realize all this at the time, Superintend-
ent Battle?”

“No, that I didn’t. I was taken in as much as any-
one could be.. It wasn’t till long afterwards that I
pieced it all together. Finding the glove was the begin-
ning of it. Then I made Sir Oswald throw the pistol
through the window. It fell a good way farther on than
it should have done. But a man who is right-handed
doesn’t throw nearly as far with the left hand. Even
then it was only suspicion—and a very faint suspicion
at that.

“But there was one point struck me. The papers
were obviously thrown down for someone to pick up.

BATTLE EXPLAINS */ S3Gr

If Miss Wade was there by accident, who was the real
person? Of course, for those who weren’t in the know,
that question was answered easily enough—the Count-
ess. But there I had the pull over you. J knew the
Countess was all right. So what follows? Why, the
idea that the papers had actually been picked up by the
person they were meant for. And the more I thought
of it, the more it seemed to me a very remarkable
coincidence that Miss Wade should have arrived at
the exact moment she did.”

“It must have been very difficult for you when I
came to you full of suspicion about the Countess.”

“Tt was, Lady Eileen. I had to say something to
put you off the scent. And it was very difficult for Mr.
Eversleigh here, with the lady coming out of a dead
faint and no knowing what she might say.”

“T understand Bill’s anxiety now,” said Bundle.
“And the way he kept urging her to take time and
not talk till she felt quite all right.”

“Poor old Bill,” said Miss St. Maur. “That poor
baby had to be vamped against his will—getting mad-
-der’n a hornet every minute.”

“Well,” said Superintendent Battle, “there it was.
I suspected Mr. Thesiger—but I couldn’t get definite
proof. On the other hand, Mr. Thesiger himself
was rattled. He realized more or less what he was up
against in the Seven Dials—but he wanted badly to
know who No. 7 was. He got himself asked to the
Cootes under the impression that Sir Oswald Coote was

No. 7”

302 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

“I suspected Sir Oswald,” said Bundle, “especially
when he came in from the garden that night.”

“I never suspected him,” said Battle. “But I don’t
mind telling you that I did have my suspicions of that
young chap,-his secretary.”

“Pongo?” said Bill. “Not old Pongo?”

“Ves, Mr. Eversleigh, old Pongo as you call him. A
very efficient gentleman and one that could have put
anything through if he’d a mind to. I suspected him
partly because he’d been the one to take the clocks
into Mr. Wade’s room that night. It would have been
easy for him to put the bottle and glass by the bedside
then. And then, for another thing, he was left-handed.
That glove pointed straight to him—if it hadn’t been
for one thing—”

“What?”

“The teeth marks—only a man whose right hand was
incapacitated would have needed to tear off that glove
with his teeth.”

“So Pongo was cleared.”

“So Pongo was cleared, as you say. I’m sure it
would be a great surprise to Mr. Bateman to know
he was ever suspected.”

“It would,” agreed Bill. “A solemn card—a silly
ass like Pongo. How you could ever think—”

“Well, as far as that goes, Mr. Thesiger was what
you might describe as an empty-headed young ass of —
the most brainless description. One of the two was
playing a part. When I decided that it was Mr.
Thesiger, I was interested to get Mr. Bateman’s opin-

BATTLE EXPLAINS 303

ion of him. All along, Mr. Bateman had the gravest
suspicions of Mr. Thesiger and frequently said as much
to Sir Oswald.”

“It’s curious,” said Bill, “but Pongo always is right.
It’s maddening.”

“Well, as I say,” went on Superintendent Battle,
“we got Mr. Thesiger fairly on the run, badly rattled
over this Seven Dials business and uncertain just
where the danger lay. That we got him in the end
was solely through Mr. Eversleigh. He knew what he
was up against, and he risked his life cheerfully. But
he never dreamt that you would be dragged into it,
Lady Eileen.”

“My God, no,” said Bill with feeling.

“He went round to Mr. Thesiger’s rooms with a
cooked-up tale,” continued Battle. ‘He was to pretend
that certain papers of Mr. Devereux’s had come into
his hands. Those papers were to suggest a suspicion
of Mr. Thesiger. Naturally, as the honest friend, Mr.
Eversleigh rushed round, sure that Mr. Thesiger would
have an explanation. We calculated that if we were
right, Mr. Thesiger would try and put Mr. Eversleigh
out of the way, and we were fairly certain as to the
way he’d do it. Sure enough, Mr. Thesiger gave his
guest a whisky and soda. During the minute or two
that his host was out of the room, Mr. Eversleigh
poured that into a jar on the mantelpiece, but he had
to pretend, of course, that the drug was taking effect. It
would be slow, he knew, not sudden. He began his
story, and Mr. Thesiger at first denied it all indig-

304 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

nantly, but as soon as he saw (or thought he saw) that
the drug was taking effect, he admitted everything and
told Mr. Eversleigh that he was the third victim.

“When Mr. Eversleigh was nearly unconscious, Mr.
Thesiger took him down to the car and helped him in.
The hood was up. He must already have telephoned
to you unknown to Mr. Eversleigh. He made a clever
suggestion to you. You were to say that you were
taking Miss Wade home.

“You made no mention of a message from him.
Later, when your body was found here, Miss Wade
would swear that you had driven her home and gone
up to London with the idea of penetrating into this
house by yourself.

“Mr. Eversleigh continued to play his part, that of
the unconscious man. I may say that as soon as the
two young men had left Jermyn Street, one of my men
gained admission and found the doctored whisky, which
contained enough hydro-chloride of morphia to kill two
men. Also the car they were in was followed. Mr.
Thesiger drove out of town to a well-known golf
course, where he showed himself for a few minutes,
speaking of playing a round. That, of course, was for
an alibi, should one be needed. He left the car with
Mr. Eversleigh in it a little way down the road. Then
he drove back to town and to the Seven Dials Club.
As soon as he saw Alfred leave, he drove up to the
door, spoke to Mr. Eversleigh as he got out in case
you might be listening and came into the house and
played his little comedy.

BATTLE EXPLAINS 305

“When he pretended to go for a doctor, he really
only slammed the door and then crept quietly upstairs
and hid behind the door of this room, where Miss Wade
would presently send you up on some excuse. Mr.
Eversleigh, of course, was horrorstruck when he saw
you, but he thought it best to keep up the part he was
playing. He knew our people were watching the house,
and he imagined that there was no immediate danger
intended to you. He could always ‘come to life’ at
any moment. When Mr. Thesiger threw his revolver
on the table and apparently left the house it seemed
safer than ever. As for the next bit—” He paused,
looking at Bill. ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell that, sir.”

“TI was still lying on that bally sofa,” said Bill, “try-
ing to look done in and getting the fidgets worse and
worse. Then I heard someone run down the stairs,
and Loraine got up and went to the door. I heard
Thesiger’s voice, but not what he said. I heard Lor-
aine say: ‘That’s all right—it’s gone splendidly.’ Then
he said: ‘Help me carry him up. It will be a bit of a
job, but I want them both together there—a nice little
surprise for No. 7.’ I didn’t quite understand what
they were jawing about, but they hauled me up the
stairs somehow or other. It was a bit of a job for
them. I made myself a dead weight all right. They
heaved me in here, and then I heard Loraine say:
‘You’re sure it’s all right. She won’t come round?’
And Jimmy said—the damned blackguard: ‘No fear.
I hit with all my might.’

“They went away and locked the door, and then I

306 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

opened my eyes and saw you. My God, Bundle, I
shall never feel so perfectly awful again. I thought
you were dead.”

“TI suppose my hat saved me,” said Bundle.

“Partly,” said Superintendent Battle. “But partly
it was Mr. Thesiger’s wounded arm. He didn’t realize
it himself—but it had only half its usual strength.
Still, that’s all no credit to the Department. We didn’t
take the care of you we ought to have done, Lady
Eileen—and it’s a black blot on the whole business.”

“T’m very tough,” said Bundle. ‘And also rather
lucky. What I can’t get over is Loraine being in it.
She was such a gentle little thing.”

“Ah!” said the Superintendent. “So was the Penton-
ville murderess that killed five children. You can’t go
by that. She’s got bad blood in her—her father ought
to have seen the inside of a prison more than once.”

“You’ve got her too?”

Superintendent Battle nodded.

“YT daresay they won’t hang her—<juries are soft-
hearted. But young Thesiger will swing all right—and
a good thing too—a more utterly depraved and callous
criminal I never met.

“And now,” he added. “If your head isn’t aching too
badly, Lady Eileen. What about a little celebration?
There’s a nice little restaurant round the corner.”

Bundle heartily agreed.

“T’m starving, Superintendent’ Battle. Besides,”
she looked round, “I’ve got to get to know all my
colleagues.”

BATTLE EXPLAINS 307

“The Seven Dials,” said Bill, “Hurrah! Some fizz
is what we need. Do they run to fizz at this place,
Battle?”

“You won’t have anything to complain of, sir. You
leave it to me.”

“Superintendent Battle,” said Bundle, “you are a
wonderful man. I’m sorry you’re married already.
As it is, I shall have to put up with Bill.”

CHAPTER XXXIV
LORD CATERHAM APPROVES

“FATHER,” said Bundle, “I’ve got to break a piece of
news to you. You're going to lose me.”

“Nonsense,” said Lord Caterham. “Don’t tell me
that you’re suffering from galloping consumption or a
weak heart or anything like that, because I simply don’t
believe it.”

“It’s not death,” said Bundle. “It’s marriage.”

“Very nearly as bad,” said Lord Caterham. “TI sup-
pose I shall have to come to the wedding, all dressed
up in tight, uncomfortable clothes, and give you away.
And Lomax may think it necessary to kiss me in the
vestry.”

“Good heavens! You don’t think I’m going to marry
George, do you?” cried Bundle.

“Well, something like that seemed to be in the
wind last time I saw you,” said her father. “Yesterday
morning, you know.”

“I’m going to be married to some one a hundred
times nicer than George,” said Bundle.

“T hope so, I’m sure,” said Lord Caterham. “But
one never knows. I don’t feel you’re really a good
judge of character, Bundle. You told me that young
Thesiger was a cheerful inefficient, and from all I

308

LORD CATERHAM APPROVES 309

hear now it seems that he was one of the most efficient
criminals of the day. The sad thing is that I never
met him. I was thinking of writing my reminiscences
soon—with a special chapter on murderers I have met
—and by a purely technical oversight, I never met this
young man.”

“Don’t be silly,” said: Bundle. “You know you
haven’t got the energy to write reminiscences or any-
thing else.”

“T wasn’t actually going to write them myself,” said
Lord Caterham. “I believe that’s never done. But I
met a very charming girl the other day and that’s her
special job. -She collects the material and does all the
actual writing.”

“And what do you do?”

“Oh, just give her a few facts for half an hour
every day. Nothing more than that.” After a slight
pause, Lord Caterham said: ‘She was a nice-looking
girl—very restful and sympathetic.”

“Father,” said Bundle, “I have a feeling that without
me you will run into deadly danger.”

“Different kinds of danger suit different kinds of
people,” said Lord Caterham.

He was moving away, when he turned back and said
over his shoulder:

“By the way, Bundle, who ave you marrying?”

“T was wondering,” said Bundle, “when you were
going to ask me that. I’m going to marry Bill Ever-
sleigh.

310 THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY

_ The egoist thought it over for a minute. Then he
nodded in complete satisfaction.

“Excellent,” he said. ‘“He’s scratch, isn’t he? He
and I can play together in the foursomes in the Autumn
Meeting.”

THE END

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PRINTED IN U.S.A.

GAYLORD

Christie, Agatha

The seven dials mystery.